A Suggestion of City Streets
by magical-notes
Summary: Two gangs fight over the same territory as they build up to a hopefully final rumble, the lieutenant of one side falls in love with the brother of the other side's leader. As they struggle for acceptance, the fighting continues-West Side Story adaptation
1. Only Going to Challenge Him

It had started out a calm enough day, the two gangs of the city mostly sticking to their own turf. However, no good thing could last for long, and soon enough the Jets and Sharks were battling in the streets as usual.

At one point, the leader of the Sharks, Munkustrap, had gotten Tumble, one of the Jets, down on the ground, using a knife on his ear. Moments later, the Jets descended like an angry crowd, the leader, Macavity, going to Tumble like a protective father and holding out the bandana he usually had on his wrist to the younger gang member.

Just as the free for all was turning violent enough to ensue lasting injuries, a whistle sounded and Officer Growltiger stomped onto the scene.

Following Growltiger, Lieutenant Deuteronomy approached as well. His gaze swept over the assembled gangs, his eyes narrowing as they split into their two factions, "All right, go ahead and kill each other. But not on my beat."

Tumble eyed the cops and the other gang, Macavity's bandana pressed against his injured ear. Munkustrap held out a hand to stop any of his gang from moving until they got the lay of the land.

"Why, if it isn't Lieutenant Deuteronomy," Macavity said, posture and tone innocent.

"Top of the day!" several of the other Jets chirped, Tugger sweeping a mock bow to the plainclothes cop.

"And Officer Growltiger," Munkustrap supplied, innocence to match Macavity's in place.

The Sharks took their cue, touching their foreheads, "Top of the day, Officer Growltiger."

Deuteronomy frowned, "Boy, what you Puerto Ricans have done to this neighborhood..." He turned to Tumble, "Which one of them clobbered you, Tumble?" The boy glanced toward Macavity, taking a half step back.

"A PR?" Macavity asked, voice still innocent. "We actually think that there was the work of a cop." He may hate the other gang, but when faced with the police he'd rather stick with the other teens than the adults.

"Two of them, at least," Tugger added with a firm nod.

"Impossible," Growltiger growled in response.

Deuteronomy didn't look impressed, "Didn't nobody tell you there's a difference between being a stool pigeon and cooperating with the law?"

"You did," Mac said, still with a grin. "And we all chipped in for a prize for the first kid that can figure it out."

"Smartass," the lieutenant muttered. "I've got a surprise for you: you hoodlums don't own the streets. There's been too much raiding between you and the PRs." At that he turned to the Sharks, "All right, Munkustrap, get your trash out of here." He held his ground as the leader of the Sharks tensed, "_Please_."

Munkustrap considered the cop for a long moment before shrugging, "Let's go, Sharks." The gang filtered off.

Macavity let out a huff of breath at that, arching a brow at the cops. "So, you gonna give us the whole song and dance lecture too then?"

"Hardly a lecture, kid. But I don't care for traffic corners and that's where I'm gonna end up you keep this up. So, you are all gonna play ball with me. I gotta put up with the damn PRs and you do too. You're gonna play nice with 'em. Cause if you don't I'm gonna beat the livin' daylights outta every one of you and _then_ run you in." He glanced at Growltiger, "Say good-bye to the nice boys, 'Tiger."

"Good day boys," the other cop said with a feral smile and Macavity took half a step backward, before waving jauntily at them. Deuteronomy shook his head slightly before striding off.

Once the cops at left Ricky, one of the youngest members of the gang thumbed his nose in their direction, "Good-bye, boys. They make a nice couple."

"You hoodlums don't own the streets," Tugger parroted back, bitterly. "Sure we don't you ass."

"Go play in the park," Ricky mocked.

"Get outta the house," Tumble murmured in response.

"Get out of here and keep off the world!" Tugger added, jumping up on a low hanging fire escape ladder. "A gang that don't own a street owns nothing."

Having watched his gang with his arms crossed over his chest, Macavity suddenly thundered. "We do own it!" Once he'd gotten all their attention, he continued, "Form up you guys. Tumble, your ear. Which one of those PRs did it?"

Tumble gave a half shrug, "Munkustrap. I heard him say it was 'cause of that stink bomb in the dress shop or soemthin'." He finally lowered the kerchief.

"Shoulda done worse," Tugger scolded. "Those PRs the reason my old man's gone bust."

"Says who?" Macavity demanded, leaning back.

"Well, my old man of course."

Ricky leaned over to Tumble, "My old man says his old man woulda gone bust anyhow."

"What did you say?" Tugger growled, leaning toward the other.

Macavity waved his hands, silencing them. "Plenty of old man's say they're ruining free enterprise, that ain't the point here..."

Ricky sidestepped to put Tumble between himself and the larger teen, "Well, what're we gonna do about it?"

"Fight them," Macavity said with a shrug. "We've fought hard for this territory, and I'm not letting these cops or the damn PRs take it from us. So let's speed up and clean them out in one all out fight."

"A rumble!" Tugger declared happily, jumping down from the fire escape ladder.

Tumble looked a bit wary at that, but Ricky nodded his agreement, "Hey, sounds like it'd work."

"Cool it," Macavity said, eying Tugger. "The Sharks'll want a place and all sorts of weapons. Who knows what sorts either, we just gotta be prepared. They could ask for bottles, knifes, zip guns or any manner of instruments."

"Zip guns?" Tumble squeaked slightly.

Macavity shrugged. "Not saying they will, but they could and if they do, well," he shrugged. "I'd much like to hold this territory like we always have, with skin! But they say switchblades and I'll get one. I say I want us to be number one, to sail, and to hold the damn sky!"

Tumble looked uncertain but nodded, "Then we hold it." Ricky nodded his agreement, glancing at the other gang members.

The other members whooped and otherwise celebrated for a moment before Macavity held his hands up for silence again. "We rumble!" There was some more excitement before he held his hands up higher. "Look, we gotta get a war council together, to decide on the place and the weapons. I'll make the challenge to Munkustrap."

"You gotta take a lieutenant," Tumblebrutus reminded him.

"That's me," Tugger said, puffing out his chest.

"No," Macavity said shortly. "It's Cor."

"Cor?" Tugger asked, scowling. "Who needs Cor? He don't belong anymore."

Macavity's eyes went cold. "Cut it. Cor and I started the Jets."

"He don't act like he wants to run with us anymore," Tugger said ,crossing his arms over his chest.

"Who wouldn't want to belong to the Jets?" Ricky looked like Tugger had grown another head.

"What about when we clobbered the Emeralds?" Tumble reminded, "Couldn't a done it without Cor."

Ricky agreed, "He saved _my_ ever lovin' neck."

Still scowling, Tugger shrugged. "He ain't run with us over a month."

"He's a Jet," Macavity said. "And Jets always come through."

Tumble glanced between Tugger and Macavity, "Where are you gonna find Munkustrap?" he asked, trying to divert Tugger's anger at the mention of Coricopat.

"The dance tonight," Macavity declared.

"But the gym's neutral territory," came the hesitant comment.

"I'm gonna make nice there," he declared, spreading his arms. "I'm just gonna challenge him."

That earned a bit of a smirk and a shrug, "So you're gonna go find Cor then?"

"Yeah. Meet us at the gym at ten. Dress sharp and walk tall!"

"We always walk tall!" Ricky responded, almost indignantly, "We're Jets!"

"Good," he said with a nod, and with another jaunty wave when to go find his lieutenant.

w-w-w-w

Pouncival was walking Mistoffelees from school to the shop the other worked in. Partially because the other teen's brother had insisted on it and partially, mostly, because he wanted to talk to him away from the others, "Hey, Misto?"

"Yeah?" Mistoffelees asked, the small teen trying to sort the papers from his last class while he was walking so he wouldn't have to worry about them at the shop while still getting there on time.

"You know that dance tonight? You going?"

"I," he blinked hazel eyes upward. "I mean, if my brother is letting me go..."

"Well, would you...I mean, would you like to go with me?"

The smaller teen stumbled, nearly dropping the papers before blinking back at him. "Go to the dance? Like, together, romantically?"

Pounce shrugged, "Well, yeah? I mean...if you wanted to?"

"Well, I mean," Mistoffelees looked down rather than back at the other Puetro Rican. "It seems a little sudden, don't it?"

"Not...really? I mean, maybe?" The other boy sighed, "If you don't want to you just gotta say so."

"No, I mean," he bit his lip. "I don't know. I'm not adverse to it..." He just was never sure about Pounce, considering how often Munkustrap hinted they should be together.

"Well..." Pouncival sighed, "Would you at least think about giving it a try?"

"Yeah," he said after another pause. "I could give it a try."

That earned an uncertain smile, "So you'll go with me tonight then?"

"Yeah," Mistoffelees said, giving him an uncertain smile back. "It could be nice."

Pouncival managed not to indicate how disappointing that particular answer was as they reached the shop, "Well, looks like we're here..."

"So, I'll see you tonight?" Mistoffelees offered.

"I'll see you tonight," Pounce gave the other a bit of a grin, "Have a good afternoon."

"Yeah, have a good afternoon," Mistoffelees said, still giving him an uncertain smile. "See you."

Stepping into the store, he paused at the sight of Bombalurina, hands on her hips. "That boy looks crushed, Misto."

"You're reading too much into it," he muttered, setting up the sewing desk. She rolled her eyes, clicking her heels over to her own desk.

Pounce waited until the door was closed before turning and heading on his way to ditch his stuff and check in with Munkustrap. Better to find something to think about other than the fact that even as his one option Mistoffelees would rather not go to the dance with him.

w-w-w-w

Macavity leaned against the side of Doc's store, looking up at Coricopat on the ladder. "You can't well say no to me without telling me why?"

Coricopat was perched precariously, polishing the sign that looked like it had gone unpolished for years, "Why not?"

"Cause it's me asking! Mac!"

The other ignored that point, "You think this is shining enough?"

"Yeah sure, it's blinding," Mac drawled.

"Twenty-seven years, Doc's had this drugstore. I wonder how many times this things been polished since then."

"None, most like. Cor, this is important!"

"Very important, I'm sure. Acemen, Rocketmen, the whole lot," he glanced at Macavity but returned to his work.

Macavity scowled at him. "Hell's with you? Four and one-half year I live with a buddy and his family. Four and one-half years I think I know a man's character. But you... I am a victim of disappointment in you."

"End your suffering, then. Why don't you pack up your gear and clear out?" Coricopat asked, no real bite to his words, as he jumped down from the ladder.

"Cos your ma's all hot for me," Mac replied with a smirk.

Cor caught the other's arm and twisted it, "Right..."

Macavity laughed, pulling at his arm. "Na, it's cos I hate living with my buggering uncle! Now let go."

He was released once Coricopat heard the word 'uncle', though the other grinned for a moment, "Now. Go play nice with the Jets."

"Hey, the Jets are the greatest," Macavity protested.

"Were."

"Are! You find anything better?" he demanded, arms crossed over his chest. Part of the play melted off his face as he watched Coricopat.

"Well…" Coricopat shrugged very slightly, "No, but..."

"Then what's up?" the Jets leader demanded. "Come on Cor, you and me against the world. What's changed?"

"I want more out of life, Mac. That's what changed. I mean, there's something more out there."

Macavity just snorted. "Really? For kids like us. Dream on, Cor."

"Mac, I've got a decent job, I might be able to get out of here at some point. It's possible. I mean, there's something coming, something good. I can feel it. I just..."

"You just what? Walk away from all your friends in the meantime?"

"No! I just..." He shook his head, "I want the _option_ to grow old. To die in my sleep rather than a pool of my own blood."

Macavity just rolled his eyes. "Sure you do. But right now, the Jets need you. _I_ need you."

"You haven't heard a word I've said, have you?"

"Look, I ain't here to debate philosophy with you, I'm here to win back our territory. Do I have my second or not?"

Cori sighed, "What time and where?"

"Dance at the gym tonight," Mac said with a grin. "Ten, and dress sharp like."

Coricopat offered him a half-hearted grin, "I'll see you there. And probably live to regret this..."

"Who knows?" Mac said with a wave as he pushed off. "Maybe you'll find this life thing there."

"Maybe so. Take care, Mac."

"Tonight, ten!" he reminded, walking away backwards.

"Tonight!" Coricopat watched him go before putting the ladder away, thinking about what could well come of that night. Something good, hopefully.

w-w-w-w

Mistoffelees sighed, putting the last of the projects away for the evening as Bomba held out a dark grey suit to him. "Oh, thank you," he said, taking it and eying her purple dress.

"Of course. Anything for my little brother," she said with a grin, before whirling to show off her own dress.

"You aren't married to my brother yet," he said, with a grin. "But I suppose you're right. You might as well be my sister."

"Now get dressed," she said, shooing him and the suit off. "I even have a nice tie and handkerchief for you."

Grinning for the first time since the dance had been mentioned, Mistoffelees retreated behind a curtain. "Bomba," he said after a moment. "When you look at Munkustrap... how do you feel?"

Bomba blinked. "What do you mean? Surely you don't expect me to explain all that..."

"Well, no," he said, buttoning the pants. "Just... when I look at Pounce... there's nothing."

"Maybe a non passionate love is worthwhile," she said with a shrug, ignoring the massive sigh from behind the curtain.

"So, you don't passionately love my brother?" he asked, pulling the shirt on and buttoning it.

"I do," she replied. "But that's why another sort might be better. Less scary. You wouldn't always be so terrified of what would happen to them, what would happen if you lose them."

"But," he started to protest as the door opened.

Munkustrap entered, Pouncival following him, "Are you two ready?"

"Almost!" Mistoffelees called from behind the curtain as Bomba handed him a purple tie.

"I am," she said and whirled around once for her lover.

Munkustrap grinned as he looked her over, pulling her close for a kiss, "And I must say you look beautiful."

Laughing, she returned the kiss before pulling away. "You're brother should look very nice, if he ever gets out of there."

Munkustrap pulled Bomba close again, his arm coiling around her waist, "Come on, Mistoffelees, we don't wish to be late."

"It's not my fault this shirt has so many buttons," he protested. "And there's the tie and... alright," he murmured, finally stepping out and tucking the handkerchief in his pocket as he came. "I'm done, I'm done. Are you sure this looks alright?"

His brother looked him over, "Looks very nice."

Pouncival nodded his agreement, "You look great, Misto."

He offered Pounce a faint smile, slipping his hands into the suit pockets. "Thank you."

"To the dance!" Bomba declared, clapping her hands.

Munkustrap opened the door to the shop, holding it open for the others, "Off we go then."

Trailing after him, the small group reached the gym to find the dancing already in swing, Macavity leading his gal, Griddlebone, through the music, the other Jets cheering him on. Munkustrap looked around, spotting the other Sharks there and nodding in that direction as he held his hand out to Bombalurina to lead her onto the floor. She went with him gladly, trying to show up the Jets with a dance full of latin flair.

The music came to an end and The two gang leaders drew their respective gals to opposite sides of the gym in order to meet with the other members of the gangs.

Mistoffelees laughed as his brother and Bomba approached. "Think you showed off enough?"

Munkustrap smirked a bit, "Hardly, we're just getting warmed up. Right?" He glanced at Bomba.

"Right," she nodded. "We shall wipe the floor with them next time."

"Exactly. How can we do otherwise when I have the most lovely woman here on my arm?"

Grinning, Bomba kissed his cheek. "Flatterer."

Across the gym, Mac cried out as Coricopat finally walked in. "You actually made it!"

Cori glanced toward the clock, "I'm on time for when I said I'd be here. Ten right?"

"Well, a little after ten now," Macavity said, embracing him. "Still, you had me worried."

"Me? Worry _you_? I told you I'd be here," Coricopat returned the embrace before stepping back. "Have I missed anything important yet?"

"Just some general dancing face offs," Mac laughed. "Still think my girl's a better dancer."

Griddlebone smiled as she wrapped her arm around Mac's, "That's because you're biased, but I'm hardly complaining."

"Me? Biased? Hardly," he said, twirling her around. She laughed, coming out of the spin and leaning up to kiss him. Returning the kiss, he smirked back at Coricopat. "Relax, enjoy the dance a little. We'll deal with business soon enough." With that, he led Griddlebone back to the dance floor.

Munkustrap saw the other leader starting for the floor as a crisp tune started, he offered his hand to Bomba, "Shall we show these Americans how it's done?"

"Of course, love," she replied, having to consciously not say the Spanish. He led her out onto the floor and promptly into the dance.

Clapping and cheering for his brother, Mistoffelees found his eyes straying to the other side before snapping them back again.

Coricopat's gaze moved over the Sharks, sizing them up, even as he cheered Mac on. His grey eyes stopped their movement when he spotted a young Puerto Rican. He blinked for a moment and glanced away to see how Mac and Griddlebone were actually doing.

This time when Mistoffelees' eyes trailed back around the gym, they met the grey eyes of the other, stopping both of them there. He took half a step forward before wavering again but not looking away. Coricopat swallowed, hesitating before moving over toward the refreshments table, it was the neutral ground of the neutral ground, though neither of the gangs had taken advantage of it up to this point.

Swallowing and glancing at the others of his group, Mistoffelees slunk away toward the table, meeting the other in the middle of it.

"Hello," the taller boy murmured.

"H-hi," Mistoffelees managed.

"Enjoying the dance?"

"I think so," Mistoffelees replied, eyes still trained on the other.

"Well, that's something," Coricopat offered the other a smile, trying to dismiss the thought he was having.

"And yourself?" Mistoffelees swallowed.

"I think so. It's, well it's a dance."

"I can't tell if you're saying that like it's a good thing," Mistoffelees said, offering him up a smile.

"I think it might be now..." Coricopat said, looking down at him.

Mistoffelees felt his stomach turn over. "You're not thinking I'm someone I'm not?"

"No. I know you aren't."

"Or that we've met before?"

"I know we haven't." Which was why this was such a bad idea...

"Then why are we...?" the smaller started.

Coricopat hesitated for a moment, considering apologizing a head of time, but instead leaned down to test the waters and kiss the other lightly. Shocked into freezing a moment, Mistoffelees leaned up and returned the kiss, his hands coming to rest on the other teen's shoulders.

It wasn't a perfect kiss, but it was close enough to qualify. Coricopat pressed down into the kiss, his arms curling around the smaller teen's waist as he pulled him closer.

On the Sharks' side of the gym, Munkustrap and Bombalurina had rejoined the gang at the end of the dance. Pouncival was looking around for Mistoffelees and froze when he spotted him, "The hell?"

Munkustrap blinked at him in confusion before turning. His entire body tensed and he strode over, yanking Coricopat back and slugging him stepping between the two, "Go home, American."

Macavity was abruptly there as well, growling at the Puerto Rican as Mistoffelees tried to blink himself back into reality. "Brother!" he protested, pulling back on Munkustrap's arm.

Coricopat blinked at that, mouthing the word 'brother.'

Munkustrap ignored his younger brother, his eyes narrowing dangerously at Macavity and addressed Coricopat as he consciously kept his words in English, "Keep your thrice-damned hands off of my brother."

Macavity's eyes snapped to Coricopat at that, shock clearly registering in his face. "And you keep your hands off my lieutenant!"

Still pulling on Munkustrap's arm, Mistoffelees stopped at that, swallowing hard.

"Lieutenant?" Munkustrap's voice grew cold. "Pouncival!" He snapped, waiting until the other had approached, "Take Mistoffelees home. Now!"

"But," the small teen started to protest and only drew back, nodding slightly those his gaze remained on the Jet. Pounce scowled in Coricopat's direction, but led Mistoffelees from the dance. The smaller teen kept glancing back until they were outside.

Munkustrap's lip curled in disgust at the other teens, "Can your lieutenant not fight his own battles?"

"Can your brother not?" Macavity replied, taking a step back and smoothing back his hair, smoothing his mood down at the same time.

"He does not have to," the response came through gritted teeth.

"Then neither does Cor," Macavity replied, shifting back.

Coricopat held his ground under Munkustrap's hard gaze, but only barely. The Puerto Rican finally shrugged, "Very well. Stay away from mi hermano, American. I will only tell you once."

Macavity stepped between them. "Look, this isn't what's relevant."

Munkustrap's gaze moved to meet Macavity's eyes, "Isn't it?"

"Well, not right now. Bitch fight it out between the two of you later. Right now, I want you. For a war council."

That got the other's attention, "When? Where?"

"Tomorrow. Doc's place. No funny business between now and then."

Munkustrap nodded, "Tomorrow _night_, Doc's."

"Sure. Say, nine?" Macavity said with a shrug.

"Nine o'clock it is then. No weapons. Safe passage to and from."

"Of course," Macavity said. "We're civilized folk here."

"You and civilization have never existed together," Munkustrap replied, bitingly.

Macavity laughed. "Says the uncivilized. Tomorrow, nine. We'll talk then." With that, he grabbed Coricopat's arm and dragged him away. Munkustrap glowered after the pair of them before turning to Alonzo to discuss logistics.

Coricopat allowed himself to be dragged, shaking Macavity off once they were away from the other gang, "What?"

"What what? Locking lips with the enemies brother was, what, your idea of a joke?"

"No. I didn't know he was his brother."

"He clearly belonged with them!" Macavity snapped, waving an arm across the gym.

"What's your point?" Coricopat asked, swallowing and on the defensive.

"My point? That's not entirely clear?" his friend glowered at him. "You're kissing the enemy's brother. The group we're doing our damnest to wipe off our territory. What the hell are you thinking?"

Coricopat crossed his arms, "That maybe they aren't that different from us? That he was cute, that maybe I want a life that doesn't see it as us versus them? What part of some of these things did I not make clear earlier?"

Macavity scowled at him. "But you'll be there, tomorrow?"

"I don't have much choice, do I?"

"Could skip work," Macavity snapped, more worked up then he liked. Smoothing his hair down again, he turned, moving back toward Griddlebone. Coricopat scowled after him, but turned on his heel and left the dance, heading for Puerto Rican territory.

* * *

><p>Hello, readers, and welcome to a new story.<p>

Your note today, from Victoriousscarf: This story means a lot to me personally. I, more than Meadow, have a very long history with West Side Story, as it was my grandpa's favorite play, and thus it will always be associated with him to me. I don't remember the first time I saw the 1961 movie because I saw it when I was so young. Last weekend, Meadow and I had a chance to see the Revival Tour of this play, which is what prompted this story. It follows to libretto for the play more than the film, so those familiar with the film will run into some changes, as well, of course, as the changes our own characters made to the text.

Not that readers need or even should be familiar with the story in question. In fact it might be more interesting for those who don't know West Side Story to read it. So please don't let the source material turn you off. However, as a warning for those that haven't seen West Side Story, this is an adaptation of _Romeo and __Juliet_.

We are very excited to bring you this story, and it is rather different from some things we've written in the past. We hope our readers enjoy this just as much, and please, please take some time to leave some feedback. It means so much to your author team to hear from readers. Cheers all, and thank you for taking the time to read this.


	2. One or the Other is More than Enough

Mistoffelees jogged in an attempt to catch up to Pounce's long stride. "Pounce, wait!"

Pouncival shortened his stride, finally stopping to let the other catch up, "What?"

"I'm sorry," he said, shoulders hunched. "I'm, I really didn't mean..." he stammered into silence for a moment.

"Who is he?"

"He," Mistoffelees paused again, swallowing. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" Pounce swallowed, trying not to visibly react to that.

"No," he said faintly, shrinking down. "No, I... I didn't mean to..."

"Well, that does a lot of good, no?"

"Pounce, please," Mistoffelees tried. "I don't know what happened in there. I certainly didn't plan it."

"Which makes it all better," Pouncival couldn't seem to pull his gaze away from the direction they were walking in to look at his date.

Reaching his arm forward, Mistoffelees caught Pounce's. "I'm sorry. I messed the entire evening up, just please..."

"Please what?" Pounce stopped, turning to face hte other, hurt and betrayal in his dark eyes.

"W-well, I was going to say look at me but," he swallowed. "Never mind. Saying I didn't mean to isn't going to help, is it?"

Pounce let out a mirthless half-laugh, "No. It really isn't."

"I'm sorry," Mistoffelees repeated.

"Give me a little while to work up to forgiving you. All you had to do was tell me you wanted to go as friends. Or even that you did not want to go with me." He shook his head, "I should get you home."

"But that," he caught Pounce's hands. "That's not what it was! I, I did want to go with you, but he, and there..."

Pounce shook his head, "No. You didn't. I knew that this afternoon. I didn't know /why/, but I knew."

"I," Mistoffelees swallowed and looked down, dropping Pounce's hands. "I never meant..."

"I...I know. You never mean to hurt anyone," he sighed. "That's what makes you _you_. A bright spot. I should have just asked if we could go as friends. It might have hurt less."

"I wish," he raised a hand and let it drop before looking down. "I'm sorry. But god, you say how my brother reacted. I won't ever see him again so it doesn't matter."

Pounce looked at the other boy for a long moment, "I...don't know if I'm quite able to say I'm sorry about that at this point."

Still looking down, the edges of Mistoffelees' mouth pulled up. "I know."

"We...had better get you home before your brother beats us there and has my hide for not having you there."

Nodding, Mistoffelees stepped up next to him, walking toward the apartment building where so many of the Sharks lived.

Upon reaching home and sending Pounce back to his own apartment, Mistoffelees looked around the small rooms before stepping out into the fire escape, sinking down on the edge of it and leaning his arms against the railing.

Coricopat had been wandering the area for a while by the time he spotted the other on the fire escape. He paused, calling up softly, "Mistoffelees?"

Freezing, Mistoffelees looked down. "O-oh," he said, scrambling to his feet and leaning over. "What are you doing here? If you're found..."

"The dance lasts for another hour."

"They could be home any minute," Mistoffelees said. "Considering how angry my brother was..."

"They'll do their planning there where they won't be interrupted. Neutral territory and everything," Coricopat insisted. "Come down for a few minutes?"

"I can't come down," Mistoffelees said, unable to help himself from smiling though.

Coricopat was halfway up the ladder before the other finished speaking, "Then I'll come up."

Eyes widening, Mistoffelees' breath caught. "Oh. Okay."

He pulled himself up over the last railing, "I...you know I almost didn't' go tonight?"

"To the dance?" Mistoffelees asked, taking a step back to allow him room on the fire escape.

Coricopat nodded, leaning against the railing, "To the dance."

"Then why did you?" Mistoffelees asked, leaning back toward him.

"Because..." he sighed, "I originally told myself it was because Mac's right, he's the only real family I've got. Honestly, though? It's because I hoped I'd find the thing I've been looking for for the last while."

"What are you looking for?" Mistoffelees asked, moving again. "Y-you know I recognize Macavity, but I never heard your name..."

"I...don't really know, but something's been missing." He paused for a moment, "You...oh, Coricopat."

"Coricopat," he tested the name out and stepped forward, putting a hand over the taller teen's chest. "No idea what's been missing then?"

Cor smiled faintly down at the other, his hand coming up to cover the other's, "Not really. I've just known_ something_ was."

"So, what are you doing here then?"

"Because I think I found it."

Mistoffelees' breath caught. "O-oh? Where is it then?"

"I...Well, I think it's you. God, I know how that sounds, but it's like there was a missing part of me and I found it when we kissed."

"That's a hell of a thing to find there," Mistoffelees said, breath catching. "I mean, with, in me..."

Coricopat looked at him for a long moment, "Is it really so hard to believe?"

"It," he paused and smiled. "I don't know?"

He received a smile in response, "All I know is I feel like I could fly right now."

"Where would you fly to?" Mistoffelees asked, looking up into his eyes.

"Away. Maybe the country. Somewhere where this battle over a little stretch of pavement doesn't get people killed."

Leaning up, rather than respond, Mistoffelees just kissed him for the sentiment. Coricopat's arm curled around the other's waist, drawing him nearer as he returned the kiss gently.

Pressing deeper into the kiss, Mistoffelees wrapped his arms around the other, drawing back slightly. "My brother. He could be home any minute..."

"The door to your building is around the corner from here."

"Others could come, it's a crowded building and we all know each other," he said, pressing in for another kiss anyway.

Coricopat smiled against the kiss before pulling away, "I'm not sure I much care at the moment."

A door could be heard closing inside the apartment.

Mistoffelees nearly jumped back. "Wait here," he said softly, glancing back. "Is someone there?"

"It's just me, brother," Munkustrap answered in rapid Spanish. "Come inside, it's cold and we need to talk."

Mistoffelees sent a panicked look at Coricopat, kissing him quickly before pushing him back down. "Go, go, go go go," he said before calling. "A moment, brother!"

Coricopat paused for a moment, "Will I see you again?"

"We go to the same school," Mistoffelees chided. "Tomorrow, after class, flagpole. We'll work something out then. Go _now_."

He grinned up at Mistoffelees, levering up for a brief kiss before scurrying down the ladder and away. There was a knocking on Misto's bedroom door, "Mistoffelees?"

"Yes, brother," Mistoffelees said, climbing back inside quickly. "The cool air was soothing," he said, opening the door. "I needed that tonight."

Munkustrap looked unimpressed, his expression dark, "The Jets' _lieutenant_?"

"I did not know that's what he was," Mistoffelees replied, defensive.

"And that's supposed to somehow make this better? He's one of _them_!"

Taking half a step back, Mistoffelees crossed his arms over his chest. "Who's them?"

"The Americans. The ones who shoot at us, who ask for _war councils_ at public dances. The ones who wish to drive us from what little we have here."

Dropping his eyes, Mistoffelees bit his lip. "Not all of them are like that."

"Oh really? So you know a few of them then?"

"We go to school with them, don't we? We have to interact with them at some point! Brother, which bothers you more, that he's an American or that he's a boy?"

"One or the other is more than enough. Isn't it enough I don't approve?" Munksutrap's tone was rising again. "Did you know the boy at the dance?"

"I," Mistoffelees looked down again.

"Answer me. Because the way I see it there are two options here, and I'm not certain I like either of them," the elder brother dropped into their native tongue.

Shifting back, and not looking up, Mistoffelees shifted back into Spanish as well. "I'd never met him before," he said.

"Which I suppose is fractionally better than seeing him behind my back! You are to stay in this apartment unless you are at school or work, and you are to walk with Bombalurina to and from work, do I make myself clear?"

His younger brother snapped his eyes up. "W-what? You cannot be serious!"

"No?" Munkustrap's tone was calming, but cold

"You aren't my parents!" Mistoffelees snapped and took a step back as soon as the words were out.

His brother froze, something pained flickering over his expression briefly, "No. I'm not them. I can't replace them, but damn it, I'm trying to keep you _safe_!"

"Brother, I know," Mistoffelees said, stepping forward and putting a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

Munkustrap looked down at his younger brother, sighing, "I'm trying. But seeing that...and you..." He drew a deep breath, "I don't want you getting hurt."

Mistoffelees nodded, stepping forward again to embrace his brother. "I know. I'll try not to. But if there's going to be a war council, be careful."

"No weapons, neutral meeting, even the Jets won't risk destroying a war council," he hugged his little brother. "I do not want you seeing him. He is trouble."

Mistoffelees scowled slightly at the abrupt reminder. "You think he is. But," he sighed. "You're probably right."

Munkustrap stepped back, looking down at the other, "Get some sleep, Mistoffelees. We have school in the morning."

"Good night," Mistoffelees said, stepping back.

"Good night," the elder brother made his way to his room, hoping to be able to calm down enough to actually consider sleeping.

Sighing as he watched his brother leave, Mistoffelees finally plopped down on the bed, hands behind his head. "Coricopat," he tested the name out and tried to suppress a grin, even in the dark.

w-w-w-w

The next day found Mistoffelees by the flagpole anyway, looking both ways and hoping no one was going to show up besides Coricopat. Coricopat arrived a couple of moments later, "Hey..."

"Hey," Mistoffelees said, turning toward him and offering him a half frightened smile. "You showed up."

"Of course I did," Cori returned the smile uncertainly.

"Sorry, that might have sounded odd," he said, with another smile and a shrug, looking around again. "Come," he said, taking Coricopat's arm and pulling away from the central area into a nook.

Once they were safely out of sight, Coricopat smiled genuinely, "We haven't much time here, but...where can we meet? Ice cream outside the territories maybe?"

"Yes," Mistoffelees returned promptly. "God, yes. I'm supposed to be escorted to and from school and work now but, I should be able to get around it."

That earned a long blink, "You're supposed to be what?"

"Walked to and from places," Mistoffelees said and blushed. "My brother is over protective. But my escort on at least some of these occasions is Bomba, and while she may love my brother she has never been very good at obeying him."

"So she might be willing to let you slip away?"

"If I wheedle, beg, and possibly bribe her," he replied with a soft smile. "I should manage."

"Great, so there's an ice cream place about three blocks from the territories, tomorrow?"

"When?"

"After school?"

"I have work," he reminded softly. "Right afterwards, for a couple hours."

Cori sighed, "Right. What time does your brother get home?"

"Late, usually," Mistoffelees shrugged. "He has gang business and Bomba to worry about first."

"So, if I was to meet you after work?"

"We could see about something," Mistoffelees said, shifting forward.

Coricopat glanced around before leaning down to kiss the other lightly.

"Always so light," Mistoffelees murmured, smiling faintly.

"Testing the waters," Coricopat murmured in response.

Mistoffelees offered him a smile. "I think they've been tested..."

That earned a grin as the taller teen leaned down and pressed into a kiss.

Wrapping his arms around the other's neck, Mistoffelees arched into the kiss, pushing as close as he could get. Coricopat deepened the kiss, his arms tightening around the other, not wanting to let go.

Hands slipping down to his chest, Mistoffelees twined his fingers in Coricopat's shirt, holding him there. "God, what are we even...?"

"Don't ask. Don't think it, please. Not now?" He rested his forehead against the other's, murmuring.

"We," Mistoffelees started, out of breath. "We're insane, we," he shook his head. "I should care. I should care what my brother says, what Pounce says, but I don't..."

"We'll figure this out. We'll...I don't know, but we'll make it."

He let out a breathless laugh. "Kiss me again so I stop thinking about it?"

"Gladly," Coricopat leaned down to capture the other's lips, brushing his own concerns aside as well.

Pressing into the kiss Mistoffelees nearly jumped back when he heard his name called by a confused Bomba. "Tonight or tomorrow night?" he asked rapidly.

"Tomorrow night, I have to be at the council to stop them doing anything stupid tonight."

"Yes," Mistoffelees nodded. "The more you can stop them from being stupid the better. He pressed in for another quick kiss. "I don't want to wait that long." When Bomba called his name again he stepped back finally.

"You...had better go before she actually comes looking for you. We'll see each other at school tomorrow, yes?"

"Briefly," Mistoffelees managed. "Screw it," and he kissed him again. "Tomorrow then," before turning to scamper out to Bomba, who gave him a long searching look.

Coricopat leaned against the wall smiling faintly. He waited about five minutes before leaving the nook as well, in the hopes that it wouldn't be supposed they had been together.

w-w-w-w

That evening, after seeing Mistoffelees safely back to his room after work-he was looking dreamy and it was concerning her-Bomba stamped her high heels up to the ceiling of the building, where the Sharks and their girls tended to spend their evenings.

Munkustrap narrowly avoided the door as she swung it open, one of his eyebrows going up, "Where's Mistoffelees?"

"In his room," she replied. "He seemed tired today. Pounce, how was he last night?"

Pounce shrugged, "Well enough. Apologetic."

Munkus didn't seem impressed with that, "Tired. Apologetic." He shook his head, "This is hardly a good thing. What do you mean by 'tired'?"

"What do you mean what do I mean by tired," Bomba asked on her hips. "Tired! How many other words do you think you are for it? Listless then, unmotivated. Usually he joins us up here."

"Exactly. There are the words that describe it better than 'tired'. Did he say why he stayed downstairs?"

"He was tired," Bomba deadpanned.

Munkustrap gave her a long look, "How was work?"

"Long," she said, ruffling her shirt and sitting down. "There were a few annoying costumers that we had to deal with and he once again got the brunt of the owner's annoyance for it."

Munkustrap considered that and appeared to accept it as enough of a justification. He nodded slightly, "I don't care much for your employer."

His lover huffed. "None of us do."

That garnered an eye roll as he turned to the Sharks, "Alonzo, Pounce, the rest of you, are you set? We head out shortly."

"Set, boss," Alonzo said with a nod.

Bomba rolled her eyes. "You're really going through with this?"

He turned to her again, "It is just a council, Bomba."

"Just a council!" she declared, rising and waving to some of the other girls. "Which leads to what, a fight? Then our lovers come home with their heads bashed in. That's appealing, isn't it girls?"

There was rather a unanimous negative response from the other girls. Munkustrap sighed, rolling his eyes again, "You are exaggerating, Bombalurina."

"Please," she said, crossing her arms. "You really think I am? What did we move to this country for then? If all you're going to do is bash in heads and come home bleeding."

"We moved here for a lie!" he snapped.

"And what would that lie be?" she asked, spreading her arms out.

"We came here, like naive children, thinking we could make a better life. And what do we have here? Nothing! Only a more expensive nothing."

"We came with our hearts open!" she mocked him. "Besides, I like what we can find here," and swirled her skirt for emphasis.

His eyes narrowed, "And what is that? Jobs where we get paid half what the Americans do simply because it was their _parents_ who came to this country before they were born?"

"So then our children should do just fine, no?" she asked, cocking her hip to one side and giving him a long look. "What, would you rather go back?"

"Better than being little more than a slave and a punching bag for those here. Do you really think our children would have a better chance? Look around you, Bomba, we not only speak different, we look different."

"So do the Chinese," she said with a shrug. "You don't mind hitting people, but it's the big battles you can't fight, is that it?"

His eyes narrowed at that, "And how would you go about fighting those big battles, since you seem to know all about it?"

She shook her head. "You don't cry like a scared boy in some alley way about how _unfair_ it is for starters. You don't run home like a dog with its tail between its legs.

Munkustrap's entire body tensed, "I do neither. We can hardly go to the people in charge, though, can we?"

"Who's in charge? The police? The mayor, the president?" She shook her head. "What we need to do is fight for our place here by making one, not by pissing off every person who passes through.

"And how do we do this when every time we turn around they are trying to shove us out of it? We do not belong here, Bomba, maybe in time we can get a foothold, but how when the streets are not safe for us, when the streets are not safe for_ you_?"

"I can take of myself," she said, tossing her hair over her shoulders. "For that matter, so can Misto."

"But you shouldn't _have to_. It was supposed to be a better life here. And here we are, second class citizens of the second class citizens."

She scowled at him. "So what, do you want to go back to Puerto Rico?"

"I did not say that. I would not go back there, but what are we supposed to do? How are we supposed to find a place here if not in the way I am trying?"

"I don't know! But I do know you're just continuing this cycle of hate!" she snapped. The rest of the gang had gone silent, watching the exchange.

He snarled, "Then give me an alternative! I am doing the best I know how! I go to school, I work a job, and still _nothing_."

She looked down. "And the moment it looks like someone might be reaching across the divide you do everything you can to stop it!"

"If you are talking about Mistoffelees, that was not 'reaching across the divide' that was necking with the lieutenant of the gang who's tried their damndest to run us off of this block since we came here!"

"And if it could be more?" Bomba demanded, unsure whether she believed what she was saying or if she was just arguing to argue at that point.

Her lover froze, "What do you mean 'more'?"

"I don't know!" she threw up her hands. "What if it could be more? What if we could actually make peace here?"

"We..." He shook his head, "We need to go. If the opportunity is presented we will look at it. But, that does not mean I want my little brother involved with one of them, understand?"

"Understood," she said stiffly, angry.

Munkustrap looked at her for a long moment, stone-faced, "Buenos noches, Bombalurina." He glanced toward the Sharks, jerking his head toward the door to the stairwell, "I'll be home later."

"You had better be," she said, crossing her arms but a sliver of fear in her stomach. "Come home safely."

He finally managed a faint smile, "It isn't a fight, Bomba. I'll be home."

"Good," she said, nodding but still stiff. "Make sure it stays that way."

Munkustrap opened his mouth to promise that, but closed it again, turning and leaving the roof. The only reason the door didn't slam behind him was because Pounce caught it to follow him down.

Sighing, Bomba sank down on one of the benches, rubbing a hand over her face.

* * *

><p>Here we are at the second chapter! Thank you very much to the few that have reviewed, it means ever so much to us. Due to school and work, it means a lot to take a moment to drop us that line and let us know what you think in our stressful lives. We also like to remind readers we allow annon. reviews so you don't even have to log in. Cheers all, and thank you ever so much for reading!<p> 


	3. But You Gotta End Sometime

"Where the hell are they?" Tugger complained the next night, throwing a dart savagely. "Are we having that war council or not?"

Tumble glanced up from his game of solitaire, his gaze moving to Ricky who had his nose buried in a comic book, "They'll get here when they get here."

"Oh, screw that," Tugger said, aiming a dart above Tumble's head. "They shoulda been here ages ago and they know it as much as we do."

Tumble ducked, scowling at the other boy, "Watch it!"

Doc Cohen came out of the door leading to the basement of his drugstore, "Tugger, the dartboard is on the other wall. I would rather not have to patch more holes than necessary."

"Sure, Doc," Tugger said and rolled his eyes.

"What are you boys doing here at this hour anyhow?"

"A war council, Doc," Ricky answered.

"A _what_?" the older man turned to him in shock.

"War Council," Tugger huffed as if that was obvious, Macavity lounging back in one of the seats, smoking, and considering the others with a lidded expression.

"Why?" The older man prompted, wiping down the counter.

"Whatda you mean, why?" Tugger asked, nearly missing the dartboard in his shock. "For war!"

"They're on our turf," Macavity finally interjected.

Doc pinched the bridge of his nose before letting his glasses fall back into place, "You couldn't play basketball or something to sort this out?"

Macavit'y look was far from impressed as he took another drag of the cigarette. "No. This ain't the basketball game type."

"Why do you boys do this? Is the pavement really worth your blood? Your lives?"

"Don't start, Doc," Macavity growled. "I ain't seeing much else worth it."

"What are you going to be when you grow up, Macavity? Do you have a dream beyond tonight? Beyond this week?" Doc's natural Russian accent was growing the slightest bit more pronounced as he spoke.

Macavity scowled at him. "What the hell did I just say about not startin? What's it matter to you anyhow?"

The rest of the gang had fallen mostly silent, Tugger's hand still raised but not throwing darts as they listened. Doc and Mac's fights and debates were starting to be downright legendary.

"It matters because I have seen one too many of you throw your lives away for a patch of ground. Over what in the end amounts to very little! I have seen boys and men die on battlefields large and small and I do not want to have to dig _your_ early grave as well," Doc snapped.

Macavity flicked a bit of the cigarette over the tray. "You make it sound like you fought all sorts of places."

"And you make it sound like I did not. I was fighting on these streets before the last war, and I patched up the unlucky and the unluckier in Europe. Do not talk to me of fighting, Macavity. I have seen it."

"Yeah, well, you don't know nothing about my generation," Macavaity said. "Always about kids these days, people my age. Act like you was better than we were and stand all high and mighty like."

"And you? You treat us as though we all treat you as that. Oy vey, will I never be heard? I expect no new holes in my walls, and no blood on my floors. You know my rules," with that Doc turned and disappeared downstairs again.

Macavity scowled after him, hunching his shoulders down and glaring.

Tumble looked toward the door and then toward Macavity. He turned over another card, "Think they're going to actually show?"

"They had better," he growled, smoking more impassionedly than he had before.

The door opened and Griddlebone stepped inside, her blue dress hugging all her curves just right. She gave Tugger a look, "Hold off on the darts for a minute, hot shot."

He rolled his eyes, dropping his arm obediently. "Fine, fine."

Tearing his eyes away from the door Doc had disappeared through, Macavity's eyes lit up at the sight of his girl. "Darling," he drawled.

She sauntered over to him, sitting down not quite on his lap but close, "Hello, Mac."

Wrapping his arms around her waist, he grinned. "You shouldn't be here, you know."

Leaning in she kissed his jaw, "Shouldn't I?"

"Well there's this whole war council thing going on," he all but purred, tilting his head to kiss her.

She pressed into the kiss, smirking against it before drawing back, "War council? Against the PRs?"

"Yeah," he said with a nod. "Remember? Thing we set up at the dance?" He paused to glance around. "Oi, I know there's been no sight of the PRs, but where the hell is Cor?" The thought really only had occurred to him that his second was neither there for the meet more work.

"I remember." She settled on his lap instead, "He works here, maybe he had to run an errand."

Rolling his eyes, he leaned into to kiss her, Tugger returning to darts rather abruptly.

Grids pulled back from the kiss, "I'll wait for you, even if it means talking Doc into letting me help him in the basement."

Macavity laughed and smirked. "Really now? All that to wait for me?"

She kissed him again, "And why not? I was thinking we could see where's open after the council. Which I'm still not sure I like..."

"Come on," he said, feeling like everyone was complaining. "You know what our territory means."

"I do, I just don't like you getting hurt."

"Won't get hurt," he assured, kissing her again. "Now, if you leave I'll be sure to find you later and see about tonight, hm?"

"Promise you won't start a fight tonight and then I'll see about leaving."

"No fights tonight," he said. "Promise. There should even be a truce until the rumble."

"Good. You show up bloody tonight and you get nothing," she warned, sliding off his lap and standing up. She paused for a moment before leaning down to kiss him again.

"Yeah yeah," he said, still grinning as he held her in place for the kiss.

"What're we hanging around dumb broads for anyway?" Tugger asked, gathering the darts up and starting another round.

Grids straightened, pulled away from Mac, and turned to look at Tugger, hand resting on her hip, "I've got more smarts in my little finger than you've got in your whole body, Tugger. Just cause you can't get some isn't the fault of the gals." She turned back to Macavity, "I'll see you later."

"See you tonight," he agreed, shooting Tugger a long look. "And you stop insulting my girl."

Grids strolled past Tugger, patting his shoulder on her way out, "Cool off, boy."

"She's right you know," Macavity said, watching Tugger's grimace. "You don't want them to see how you're feeling."

Ricky looked up from his comic, "And how are we supposed to not?"

"You don't show it," Mac said, as if it really should be that obvious. "Think about it. You show them how you're feeling and you are dead. You're making it obvious, showing weakness. Instead, you play it all cool."

"But the next creep that calls me a hoodlum-" Tugger started.

"You'll laugh!" Mac ordered.

"But we want to get even," Tumble protested.

"Get even cool," Macavity said, rising and moving to the center of the room.

"I wanna bust 'em!" Ricky said, closing his comic.

"Bust cool!" Macavity said, shaking his head. "Crazy boy, cool down. Take it slow, and maybe you can live it up and die in bed."

"That's what we all hope, but who's actually gonna see that?" Tumble muttered.

"Who knows?" Mac said with a shrug. "But you might as well get your chances as high as possible, right?" He laughed, shaking his head. "Playing it cool is all about keeping your weaknesses away from the others."

The younger teen considered that before nodding, "Makes sense...Doesn't change much, but makes sense."

"It's the small things, right?" he laughed again as the bell for the door rang again.

Munkustrap entered, his gang right behind him. Doc, having heard the bell, came upstairs again, pausing when he saw the two gangs.

"Coke all around, Doc," Mac said, not taking his eyes off Munkustrap.

Munkustrap shook his head at Doc to indicate otherwise, "Let's get down to business, Macavity."

Come now," Mac said, spreading his arms. "Just because you haven't learned the procedures of gracious living..."

"I do not like you. And you do not like me. I don't drink with people I don't like."

Macavity laughed in his face and shook his head. "Fine then. Must drink alone a lot then."

Munkustrap's eyes narrowed and his hands clenched, but he kept himself from retaliating against the laugh, "You are the one who called this council, it is only fair that you have the first words."

The rest of the Jets gathered from the store, falling in behind Mac. "We challenge you to a rumble. All out, once and for all. Accept?"

"What are the terms?"

Mac's shrugged was indifferent. "Whatever terms you're calling, buddy boy. You crossed the line once too often."

"You started it," came the sharp response.

"Who attacked Tumble yesterday?" Macavity demanded.

"Who attacked me the first day I came here?" Munkustrap snapped.

"Who asked you to move here?" Macavity responded.

"Who asked you?"

"Move back to where you came from!" Tugger taunted back.

Munkustrap smiled thinly, "After your parents do."

"Hey, at least we have them," Mac said, spreading his arms out.

Munkustrap's hand tensed again, "We accept your challenge."

Macavity smirked. "Time?"

"Three days, nightfall. There is a condition to the acceptance," Munkustrap hoped this would work.

"And what is that?" Macavity asked, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back.

"The losers lose the territory, but their families, and girls are to be untouched and left alone should they end up in the territory."

Macavity blinked at that, considering Grids as well. "Sure, why not?"

Munkustrap nodded once at that, "Where is it to be?"

"The river," Macavity offered.

"Under the highway," came the counter-offer.

Macavity held his hand out to be shaken. "Weapons?"

Munkustrap shook the offered hand, but hesitated, "Weapons..."

"You call," Macavity said, arms back over his chest.

"Your challenge," the Puerto Rican countered.

"Afraid to call?" Macavity returned.

There was a pause as Munkustrap considered whether or not the next word out of his mouth was a betrayal to anything he'd told Bomba earlier, "Sticks."

"Rocks," Macavity said.

"Poles."

"Cans," Mac returned, aware that this could spiral out of control very quickly.

"Bricks," Munkustrap snapped out, knowing he'd crossed a line somewhere and there was no retreat back to the safety that he had wanted for his family when he came to the American shores.

"Bats."

"Clubs."

"Bottles, knives, guns!" Coricopat's voice came from where he had entered unnoticed by either gang, "What a coop full of chickens!"

Macavity's head whipped around, the look he shot his second as murderous as he was sure Munkustrap's would be. Munkustrap's eyes narrowed at the new arrival, "Every dog knows his own."

"I'm calling all of you chicken," the Jets lieutenant responded. "The big tough gangs have to throw bricks, and stones! Afraid to get close in?" He strode nearer to the two leaders, "Afraid to slug it out? Afraid to use plain skin?"

"That ain't a rumble," Tugger muttered and Macavity leaned back, the line of his shoulders relaxing.

"A rumble can be clinched by a fair fight," Coricopat countered. "_If_ you have the guts to risk that. Best man from each gang slugs it out."

Munkustrap sized up the other teen, "I think that is a decent risk. Okay, fair fight."

"What? No!" Tugger protested and Mac put a hand on his chest, silencing him.

"Commanders say yes or no," he admonished and held a hand out to Munkustrap. "Fair fight?"

The other leader shook his hand, "Fair fight." His gaze moved to Coricopat, "I look forward to this."

"Your best man against our best man," Macavity said, moving over to clap Admetus on the shoulder. "And we pick them."

Munkustrap gaped for a moment, "But I thought..."

"We shook on it," Mac shrugged.

"Si, I shook on it." His gaze moved to Coricopat, "All your high speech about chickens, and here you let him choose another to fight your battle for you."

He shrugged, "Mac's in charge. I don't want to fight you."

Munkustrap's lip curled, "No, you would rather kiss a boy you have never met at a public dance."

"I would have thought you'd have more respect talking about your brother," Coricopat said, eyes darkening slightly.

"And I would have thought you would have more respect for knowing where you should be, and what boundaries you should not cross. Rumor has it there was an American around our building last night. You wouldn't know about that would you?"

Macavity glanced at Coricopat, eyes smoldering in anger. "I'm sure he doesn't," he growled.

"Why do you not let him answer for himself? He has already proven he has a mouth on him," Munkustrap said, flicking a hand.

Coricopat shrugged, "Why would I have any idea?"

"Because no one else has a cause to be there." He looked at Macavity, "Unless there is some scouting going on that I do not know of, in which case this entire war council is a farce."

"No scouting," Macavity growled. "I keep my word." He was, however, going to be yelling an ear off once the PRs left.

"Good. Then we will meet for this rumble, until then there is to be no fighting. Yes?"

"No fighting until then," Macavity agreed.

Munkustrap nodded once, "Then we are done here, I think." He motioned to his gang, "Come on, Sharks."

Before they could leave a slight yelp came from Ricky who'd been watching the windows, "Deuteronomy and Growltiger, headed here."

Mac moved quickly, sitting down at the bar, the other Jets mingling with the Sharks to make it look all friendly like. Munkustrap perched next to Macavity, as Pouncival and Coricopat ended up jostled into a booth with each other. Deuteronomy opened the door, glancing around at the two gangs, he shook a cigarette out of the pack he carried, glancing at Doc, "You mind?"

"I have no mind," he glanced at Macavity momentarily. "I'm the village idiot." He'd heard the two gangs' council and was ready to strangle them all, but opted instead to going back to cleaning the counter.

Macavity gave Doc a long look at that as Tugger stepped forward. "Good evenin', Lieutenant Deuteronomy. Me and Cor was just closing up."

Deuteronomy arched an eyebrow at that, "Really now?"

"Oh yeah," Tugger said, nodding as Macavity leaned against the counter. "Well, we were goin' start in about five minutes but we were aiming at that sort of a goal."

The lieutenant lit his cigarette, "Gettin' set to close up with all these people here? That don't seem quite reasonable. Might be easier if you got the trash out first." His gaze darted to Munkustrap who tensed and looked about ready to go for him.

"Well, as I said, it was sorta the goal, right? People know it's closing time, they start leaving in an orderly manner."

"Have to get all our goodbyes out," Mac drawled.

"Well, I'm gonna cut it short. Clear out, Sharks," Deuteronomy jerked his thumb at the door.

Munkustrap frowned at that, "We got rights to be here, it's-"

"A free country? Yeah, that's true. It's also a country with laws, and I can find the one that'll let me kick you out. I got the badge, you got the skin. It's tough all over. Now beat it!"

The Puerto Rican didn't move for a long moment, glancing at Macavity and then at the two assembled gangs. Doc had looked up to protest, but had fallen silent.

Scowling, Mac smoothed his expression out, nodding instead to Munkustrap. "Sad the nights endin' so soon. But you gotta end sometime, right?"

Munkustrap offered him a long look, but nodded, "Yes, it is too bad. Buenas noches, mi amigo." He rose, nodding to the door and heading out, pointedly whistling "My Country Tis of Thee" on his way out, waiting outside for his gang to join him.

Mac tried to suppress a grin at that, ducking his head down.

Deuteronomy frowned after them before he cleared his expression, "Whatever they think... So, where's the rumble going to be?"

"Rumble?" Mac asked, face expression of innocence.

"Oh come on, I know regular Americans don't rub with gold-teeth otherwise. The river? The park?" Crossing his arms, Mac remained silent.

"Look, I'm for you. I want this beat cleaned up and you can do it for me. I'll even lend a hand if it gets rough. So where you gonna rumble? The playground? Sweeny's lot?" He growled at the silence that continued to greet him, "You think I'm a lousy stool pigeon? I wanna help you get rid of them PRs." Still nothing, "Fine. I catch any a ya anywhere near it and I'll drag you all in myself." He left, the door slamming shut behind him.

Mac let out a long breath, shaking his head. "Damn cop."

Doc sighed, keeping his mouth shut about what he'd seen and what he was thinking, for once, "He's got no legal grounds in my shop, I may have to remind him next time..."

"Yeah, Doc," Mac grinned. "That would be something I pay to see."

"Stick around, I might try it," the older man muttered.

"That's the plan, Doc," Mac replied.

"Means you gotta make it that long, Macavity."

"It's a one on one skin fight!" Mac protested, throwing his hands up. "You complain about digging my grave but it's your worrying that's gonna send you to that early grave, not me."

Doc looked at him over his glasses, "A one on one skin fight you're not supposed to be directly involved in. Here's hoping you stay intact from it."

"It'll be fine, Doc, stop worryin'," Mac said, lifting his shoulders and spreading his arms out.

That earned a sigh, "I can't stop worrying. I worry about all of you, cause someone has to."

"Well, take an early night tonight then, everything's gonna be fine."

Doc tapped the wood of his countertop at that, sending a quiet prayer heavenwards at the same time, "Right, yes, of course. Just...all of you, be careful."

"Sure thing," Mac said, sliding away from the counter. "Now, if you all don't mind, I think there's a lovely gal I'm supposed to meet, since we managed to not get into any violence tonight."

That earned a round of "good night's" from the gang, Coricopat joining in, though he was carefully trying to stay under Mac's radar for the rest of the night.

Mac paused, turning at that. "We," he said, pointing to his second. "Are not done talking."

The other teen flinched, "Aren't you due to meet Grids?"

"Yeah, which is why that conversation gets to happen tomorrow," he said, waving his hand and heading for the door.

Coricopat swore under his breath, but finally rose, "Alright, everybody else out too, Doc and I gotta close up shop."

Tugger muttered something, expression dark before he looped an arm around Tumble and strode out, the rest of the Jets following. Tumble startled slightly at that, but let himself be guided out. Doc looked at the remaining teen, "You are out of your mind if you think this will be a fair fight."

"Mac's planning on it, and Munkustrap won't risk losing and having the deal fall through. It'll be as fair as they can make it, short of having the two scrawniest guys fight it out."

"I hope you're right. What were you doing in the Sharks' territory?"

"I...well, Doc, I think I may be headed toward being in love," Coricopat said, not quite looking at the other.

The drug store owner just about dropped the case of coke bottles he was carrying, "You're _what_?"

"Maybe falling in love. With Munkustrap's brother."

"You all have death wishes!" Doc declared.

Coricopat blinked at him for a moment, "What?"

"Go home. I'll finish up here and earn myself a few more grey hairs at the same time. Get going."

The teen hesitated, but left after being told once more. As he stepped outside he was hailed by a figure in the shadows. Coricopat paused, turning in that direction, "Yeah?"

Pouncival stepped out of the alley next to Doc's shop, moving over, "What do you think you're doing with Mistoffelees?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Kissing him. And then sneaking into our territory. Do you have a death wish? Are you trying to get him in trouble?"

That earned a frown, "I don't see that it's any of your business."

"I disagree. Misto is a good friend of mine. He was my date to that dance as well, by the way. You are looking to get him in trouble with his brother and I don't like it."

"I still don't think this is your business," Cori managed not to wince at the thought of being confronted by Mistoffelees' date.

"Well, I'm making it my business. Just because Misto apparently would rather run off with the first American he sees than anything else, doesn't mean I don't care about him. So here's how it's going to go. You hurt him, I let Munkustrap know it _was_ you in our territory that night. You do anything to get him in more trouble with his brother and I come after you myself. You stay away from him where he could get in trouble for it." He paused and Coricopat cut in.

"To hear his brother tell it that's any and everywhere."

"Munkustrap still thinks that he can prevent you two. I don't. But I'm trying to be clear. I don't like you. I don't trust you. And I certainly don't want you around Misto. But he seems to, so I won't rat you out. _But_, if you get caught I won't stop Munkustrap from doing whatever he thinks is best short of shipping his brother back to Puerto Rico. Clear?"

"As crystal," the taller teen gritted out. "Anything else?"

"No. That's it. Keep it in mind, American," with those words, Pouncival slipped away, making his way back to the relative safety of Shark territory.

* * *

><p>Here we are at the third chapter! Both your authors hope you're enjoying the story, especially since we're both so very in love with this chapter. It deals with Macavity quite a bit which was <em>extremely<em> enjoyable, as well as dealing with Doc Cohen, who you will probably be seeing a lot more.

We also bring you a rather exciting announcement! We're trying something new with this story, and if you head over to the live journal community (magical-note . livejournal . com without the spaces) you'll see an audio file under the tag "author commentary" (And hopefully more than one at this point) where your authors, Victoriousscarf and Meadowlark actually sat down and recorded commentary on the first chapter, and the next few chapters are coming. This was really an idea based off what film nerds we are, dealing with commentary on DVDs by people like the directors and the actors. So, we decided to work up some commentary on the story based off that idea. We really hope everyone enjoys listening to this as much as we enjoyed recording it! It was an experiment that I really hoped worked out. If this turns out to be popular at all, we're thinking of recording commentary on other stories.

That being said, thank you all who have read this chapter! We hope you enjoyed it, and please leave us a review on your way out. It means a lot to us to hear from our readers.


	4. Very Little Space for Much Else

The next afternoon, Bomba almost threw herself over Mistoffelees' desk. "The doors are open, the jail is free! Let us head home."

"Oh," Mistoffelees said, blinking rapidly at her. "I still have a little to finish. I'll lock up."

"Do it tomorrow," she said, drawing it out. "I want to get home and do you forget, I'm supposed to escort you."

"Please, Bomba," he said, rolling his eyes. "Don't start acting like my brother."

There was a knock at the back door before it opened and Coricopat slipped inside, "Mistoffelees?"

Mistoffelees felt his shoulders tense as Bomba turned slowly, looking the other teen over. "You make it so easy though," she drawled, turning back to Mistoffelees who blushed.

"I, I mean, that is," he stammered, trying not to switch back into Spanish in his sudden panic.

Coricopat froze, paling very slightly and thinking quickly, "I came to deliver some aspirin."

"You'll need it, I'm sure," Bomba said, hands on her hips. "Last I checked he wasn't supposed to talk to you at all, so why are you suddenly with the aspirin, hm?"

"I...I just go where Doc tells me and deliver to who he says."

One look at Mistoffelees' face prove that a lie. "You're out of your heads," the red head declared, planting her hands on her hips. "Why shouldn't I drag you back home?"

"Because no one else is giving us a chance, and this may be the only attempt at peace between the territories to come since this whole thing started?" Coricopat offered quietly, "And because it's just ice cream?"

"Ice cream?" Bomba asked, eyebrows going up and looking back at Mistoffelees who stammered something out in Spanish to the effect he was agreeing. She turned back to Coricopat. "Love doesn't bring peace, chit. Just heartache."

"Not always," Coricopat shook his head.

She snorted. "Right. If you're not home before your brother is, it's not my fault," she told Mistoffelees, whose eyes just widened.

Coricopat blinked, but stepped fully away from the door. His gaze darted to Mistoffelees in moderate confusion. "Bomba," Mistoffelees started and she shook her head.

"I'm tired, I'm going home. Bring me some more bubble bath from your adventures today, hm? It might even give you an excuse for being out." With that she strode for the door, stopping next to Coricopat. "I'm sure I don't have to threaten you if you hurt him, no?"

He shook his head, "No, ma'am. I am well aware."

"Good," she said, waving once more to Mistoffelees and striding from the room.

Coricopat watched her go, still blinking, "Did we just get a roundabout approval?"

"I think so?" Mistoffelees offered. "At least not straight up rejection." He swallowed hard, rising and moving to put things away.

The other teen leaned against the wall for a moment, "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"No," Mistoffelees said, "Just a few things and then I can close up for the night."

"Alright. How was your day?" the other teen asked, taking a step closer.

Closing the cupboard, Mistoffelees turned back at him. "Well," he said after a moment. "Yours?"

"Pretty well. Getting better."

Blushing slightly, Mistoffelees smiled, stepping forward and tugging Coricopat into a kiss. Coricopat leaned down into the kiss, one arm looping around the other's waist.

After a long moment, the shorter drew back but didn't move far. "I wanted to do that since you walked in."

The other smiled down at him, "You're not the only one..."

"I," he let out a breath. "It scares me a little, how much I want to kiss you and how much I think about you."

"Why?" Coricopat's hand moved to rest against the other's cheek.

"Because it's so strong," he said. "I can't think straight."

"Given time it should ease up, right?"

"If we get it," Mistoffelees said, pressing just a little closer. "I think so."

Leaning down to kiss him once more, Coricopat drew back slightly, "Shall we head out?"

"Yeah," Mistoffelees said, glancing around the room. "It would be good to get out of work for something like that."

The other offered him a bit of a smile, "Alright then."

Sliding his hand down into Coricopat's, Mistoffelees led the way out, pausing to lock the door and taking Coricopat's hand again. "Did you have a place to go?"

"I was thinking the soda shop a couple blocks east of here. It's outside both territories."

Mistoffelees smiled and nodded. "Alright. I've never spent much time outside of the territory since coming here, so you'll have to lead the way."

The taller teen offered him a bit of a smile before he headed for the soda shop, his hand still grasping the other's. They arrived a short while later, Coricopat holding the door open for Mistoffelees. At that, Mistoffelees shifted and glanced up at him before entering. "You don't have to..."

"Have to...?" He hadn't even processed the door thing, letting it swing closed from behind them.

Mistoffelees moved his hands for a moment in front of him, trying to find the right words. "Treat me like a girl?"

The other blinked rapidly for a moment at that, trying to figure out what he meant, "Oh! The door! Sorry, I...didn't even think about it."

Offering him a smile, Mistoffelees shrugged. "Okay. Just, well, it was sweet, but..."

"I'll try to avoid it if you'd like?"

"Well," the shorter shrugged again, unsure. "I guess I just wanted to make sure?"

"It's a habit, I'm...not sure how I picked it up, but it's one of those things I do without thinking. But if you'd rather I not...?" Coricopat offered again.

"No, no, it should be fine. Just," he gestured to his stature. "I've been mistaken for a girl in the past. Working at a dress shop has never helped and people don't look past how short I am."

Coricopat smiled faintly at that, "I can promise you that I don't doubt you're a boy."

Flashing him a smile, Mistoffelees finally sat down at one of the booths, where he could see the door and most of the rest of the small shop. Coricopat settled across from him, the back entrance in his line of sight, though the front door was at an awkward angle from where he was. Mistoffelees couldn't help but give him a nervous smile. "Think we got the place covered?"

That earned a faint grin, "Yeah, I think so."

Ducking his head down, Mistoffelees started fiddling with the saltshaker on the table. "I think it should concern me how automatically I make sure I have sight of a place."

Coricopat sighed, leaning back in his seat, "It's an automatic response around here.

Still paying more attention to the saltshaker, Mistoffelees nodded. "I hate that it is."

"I know. It...it really is an awful fact of life here currently."

"I don't know," Mistoffelees murmured. "Having come here so recently but... I think it's always been a fact of life here. Hatred like this, it needs time to grow. It doesn't just spring up."

Coricopat traced patterns absently on the tabletop, "True I guess. People need someone to fight with."

"I wish they didn't," Mistoffelees sighed, leaning back.

"I know what you mean. But what are we supposed to do about it?"

"I have observations, not answers," Mistoffelees said quietly and stretched his hands out on the table. "So, what do you do with yourself?"

"What do you mean? I go to school, I work at Doc's, I go home and avoid my family..."

Mistoffelees' smile was somewhat sardonic. "Sounds familiar, except for the avoiding family bit."

"I think it's the story of a lot of kids," Coricopat replied quietly.

"Most likely. Do you at least enjoy school and work?"

The taller teen nodded, "I do. School's good, and Doc's a great guy to work for...even if he does worry a lot."

"Someone should worry, don't you think?" Mistoffelees offered.

"Everyone around here knows the trouble, knows to be careful, though," Coricopat replied with a shrug.

"Or they're already dead," the shorter teen dropped the words into the space between them.

Coricopat flinched slightly at that, "Well, that's supposed to end this week."

"If it solves anything," Mistoffelees returned. "You really think one rumble is going to change matters?"

"I think if your brother and Mac can keep the gangs in line after it there's a chance for it to change something for a while anyhow."

"For a while," Mistoffelees agreed. "But how long do you really think that would work? We all live here, it's all of our homes but we only fight over it."

"I don't know, but what other options are there that you really think the gangs would go for?"

"No," Mistoffelees said, looking down again.

Coricopat sighed, "It's a one on one fist fight at this point, anyway. No weapons."

"I'm sorry," Mistoffelees said, shaking his head. "It, let's talk about something else. What's this Doc like then?"

"He, well he's pretty nice. A hard worker, treats me like an adult. He served in the last war, and says he grew up just a couple blocks from here before that, though we're not sure how much of that part's true."

"Why wouldn't it be?" Mistoffelees asked, tilting his head.

"Well, he..." Coricopat paused realizing he was talking to someone who had just moved to the country recently, "It's, I dunno, some things he says about when he was growing up don't sound like New York, they sound more like...I dunno, Russia or something."

"Maybe conditions like this are found everywhere," Mistoffelees shrugged.

"Maybe so. I dunno."

"It must have been hard, serving in the war, one way or another," Mistoffelees mused, looking down at the table and unable to stop himself imagining it. Shuddering slightly, he turned his gaze back toward the door.

Coricopat nodded, "It sure sounds like it. I mean, he's got good points, but it's not easy to get out of something you've been raised in."

"Hard to walk away from your past and all that?" Mistoffelees offered.

The other nodded in response, "Yeah, that. I've been trying that, and it only works so far when you're still in the same school, in the same apartment complex, and the same areas as the gang you used to run with."

That finally got Mistoffelees' eyes back up from the table. "What?"

"What do you mean what?" Coricopat asked warily.

"Well, you," Mistoffelees paused, gathering his thoughts back. "You made it sound like you were, well, trying to get out, or at least away from the gang."

The other looked at him for a long moment before nodding, "I was. Am."

Tilting his head, Mistoffelees gave him a long look before his shoulders sagged. "Oh. Oh, but... aren't you the second?"

Coricopat sighed, "That...would be why I'm having a hell of a time of it."

"I couldn't imagine Alonzo trying to get out," Mistoffelees murmured, looking down again. "He's as bad as my brother."

"See, I used to think that about myself too..."

"What changed your mind then?" the Puerto Rican teen asked, voice small.

"It was kind of a gradual thing, but watching friends die or get disfigured sure chipped in. I just...wanted the choice to you know, settle into a comfortable life. A chance to grow old and die in my sleep."

"I'm glad," Mistoffelees said quietly.

"I'd be more glad if the others would get that, though..." Coricopat sighed.

"It's hard for other people to see past their noses," Mistoffelees said, leaning back and looking around the room.

"I guess that's true. Doesn't mean we have to like it." He paused for a long moment, "What brought you here?"

The smaller teen couldn't help but laugh. "Here to the ice cream parlor?" he teased. "Or do you mean here to America?"

That earned a sheepish grin, "Here to America."

Mistoffelees pursed his mouth, considering. "It was hard... back home, I mean, Puerto Rico. When our parents died, brother thought we might have more opportunities here. It's the land of it, right? I think we've both gotten pretty disillusioned about that. Bomba still loves it here though."

"Did you come with your brother initially?"

Mistoffelees nodded. "There was nowhere for me to stay back there if he was coming here. And at that point, we weren't much for being separated. But," he sighed. "Things are the same as they were back home. Still hard."

"I get the feeling they're hard everywhere. Much as I hate hearing him talk about it, my old man talks about when he first came to the 'States sometimes. It gets better gradually, but..." He shook his head, "What do you do with your time? Besides school and work."

"There's not much besides school and work," Mistoffelees said with a bitter laugh and a shrug. "I go to school, I hate it, I work, and then I go home and hear about gang business. I make money, I help my brother but there's very little space really for much else."

"You hate school?"

Mistoffelees blushed and sighed. "I loved school back in Puerto Rico. Learning, making a better life. But here... here I feel like a fool and the teachers yell at me for not catching onto the language. They don't teach, they just yell, thinking us worthless pupils for being Spanish speakers first. English is a language of so many words, but sometimes I don't think it can really say what I want it to."

Coricopat looked at him for a long moment, "I...guess I can understand that. I mean I don't think I really know anyone who's dealt with that specifically, not that talks to me about it, but I can see how that would do it."

"You don't talk to many of us, do you?"

"Not really, no," the other teen looked apologetic. "On the other hand you all don't talk much to us either."

"It is a two way street," Mistoffelees agreed. "But it's hard. For you as well, but it's hard to be hated on sight for the color of one's skin or one's accent."

That earned a nod, "I guess I hadn't really thought about it like that. I mean... I don't know if it's really the accent, as much as I hate to say it. I mean, sure it marks you, but, well, Doc's got an accent. My old man has an accent. I mean, Doc runs a drugstore and my old man only sort of pulls off a job at a garage, but Doc runs his own business there..."

"But it's the accent and skin color of the decade?" Mistoffelees offered with another sardonic smile. "I do read history. One group in, one group accepted, the newest still hated. We're in a long, tradition honored line but it hurts to be in the middle of a transition. I just..." he shook his head. "But, you didn't hate me for any of that."

Coricopat shook his head, "No, I don't. I guess, I dunno, working with lots of people at the drug store is starting to change some perspectives. I mean, I still don't care much for your brother, but that may be as much a conflict of interests as anything."

Mistoffelees' eyes flickered away and back. That hadn't quite been what he meant. "I don't think my brother much likes you either."

There was a long pause before Coricopat spoke again, "Besides, there's...I don't know, it was like, you were the only other person at the dance who didn't have a chip the size of the Empire State Building on your shoulder. I mean, that's not why I kissed you, but no. You're you, and I'm me. There's got to be a point at which people say 'their heart beats like ours and they breathe air like us, and they have dignity like us, and things they care about, so it makes sense that we're not that different'. Y'know?"

"I wish they knew," Mistoffelees said, voice faint but he was leaning back toward the table again rather than away. "I wish they would understand."

"Maybe someday. We...we have to do with what we have, however little it is."

"I don't know, I think you're worth more than a little to me," Mistoffelees said, a smile entering his eyes again.

Coricopat smiled at that, "And you far more than a little to me."

"I still don't understand why," Mistoffelees said, shaking his head ever so slightly. "Why I feel like this, what you're doing..."

"What I'm doing?"

"We," Mistoffelees amended. "What we're doing."

Coricopat thought about that for a long moment, "Well, I mean...where do we want this to go?"

"Hell if I know," Mistoffelees said, with a nervous laugh. "I look at you, and I think, oh, I love you. Then, god, I think I must be out of my mind, because that's insane. I've known you for a day, kissed you the first time I saw you. Isn't that sort of crazy? But can't love work that way?"

"I...Well, I always thought love working like that was just fairy tales, but I don't know what else to, well to call this." Coricopat offered him an uncertain smile, "I mean, love at first sight isn't...well, doesn't seem right, but love at first kiss?" He shrugged, "I kind of like the sound of it."

"Well, sight and kiss came close together," Mistoffelees couldn't help but smile. "But I like the sound of it too."

"I.." the taller teen paused, "how long can it last?"

Swallowing, Mistoffelees met his eyes. "Forever," he said softly. "It can grow, it will change, I'm sure. Love always does. But I can't feel like this and think it's just going to fade away into nothingness."

"That-that isn't quite what I meant." Coricopat drew a deep breath, "Maybe it's morbid of me, but how can we hope to nurture it in this neighborhood? In this place, we're on opposite sides of what at the moment is practically an unofficial gang war."

"I'm not giving you up," Mistoffelees said, bluntly. "We'll figure it out."

"I'm glad. I'm not willing to give you up, either."

Mistoffelees bit his lip. "Are we crazy?"

"Probably. I'm not sure I care though," came the quiet admission.

Mistoffelees held his hand out across the table, standing. "Come," he said softly.

Coricopat hesitated, but rose, taking the other's hand, "Where are we going?"

Mistoffelees smiled. "No idea. I just want to kiss you again."

That earned a grin, "I am certainly not objecting to that."

Pulling the other through the back door, Mistoffelees looked either way before pulling him hard into a kiss. Coricopat startled slightly at that, but quickly recovered, pulling the other close and deepening the kiss.

Hands going to Coricopat's shoulders, they wouldn't settle in any place, moving down his arms and along his back as Mistoffelees tried to get closer. One of the Coricopat's hands moved up to tangle in the smaller teen's hair, his other wrapping around his waist to pull him flush against himself.

Finally, Mistoffelees drew back enough to breath. "I should get home," he tried to get out.

"I...probably. Can I walk you to the territory border?"

"You could convince me to stay a moment longer," Mistoffelees grinned.

Coricopat grinned back, leaning down to kiss him again, "I might just have to try." Pressing into the kiss, Mistoffelees wrapped his hands around the back of Coricopat's head, holding on.

After another long moment, Coricopat finally drew back, "We really should get you home before your brother gets there..."

Trying to catch his breath, Mistoffelees nodded, smoothing down Coricopat's hair-or trying to. "God, it looks obvious you've just been kissed."

The other grinned, running a hand over his hair, "So let it. Let the world know for all I care right now."

"The world can know, how about not letting my brother or other's in the area into it yet?" he said, but still grinned. "Dare I ask how I look?"

Coricopat reached up to comb his fingers through Mistoffelees' hair to tame it a little bit, "Like you've been kissed recently, but it's not blatantly obvious."

"God," Mistoffelees murmured, trying to smooth down his own hair but unable to actually stop smiling at the other.

"You should have time to comb it before you run into anyone, right?"

"That's the hope," Mistoffelees said, eyes widening. "It's that bad?"

"Not...really? I mean your hair's in disarray and I don't think my fingers are going to help tame it any. And your face is flushed a bit..."

"I think we'll make it," Mistoffelees said, leaning up to kiss him again. "But god, what are we doing in the next few days?"

"You could come by the drug store..." He paused, "Or maybe not. God, I don't know."

Mistoffelees let out a long breath. "This isn't sustainable. For now, do you think we could avoid either territory?"

"I think this may be the closest we can get to it..."

"Then let's stay out here," Mistoffelees said. "I think, I think Bomba is willing to let me slip away."

"Then let's plan to meet here after work?"

"Okay," Mistoffelees nodded. "Okay. Tomorrow," he twined his hand with Coricopat's. "I really need to get home tonight though."

Coricopat offered him a smile and another quick peck, "I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Walking me home?"

He nodded, "As far as I can."

"Good," Mistoffelees managed. He finally stepped back, keeping their hands together as they walked.

They reached the edge of Puerto Rican territory and Coricopat stopped, "I...really shouldn't go any further..."

Turning to him, Mistoffelees paused, wanting to linger. "No, you shouldn't."

Coricopat paused for a moment before leaning down, intending to just kiss the other briefly. Mistoffelees leaned up into the kiss, intending it to be just as brief but not wanting to let go once he was there.

"Dios mio!" Pouncival's voice cut through the air, his eyes narrowing at the two of them as Coricopat startled and took a solid step away from Mistoffelees. Which was little compared to the solid three that Mistoffelees took away from him before turned abruptly, eyes huge.

Pounce shook his head, moving over, looking up at Coricopat, "I am sure we had a conversation about what I thought of you yesterday. Not to mention what you needed to avoid. I am certain that kissing him where his brother can catch you was top on that list." He scowled, turning to Mistoffelees, "And I am also sure that you are supposed to be at home."

Mistoffelees' jaw worked for a moment, unable to get any sound out. "I-I, si."

Coricopat opened his mouth to say something, but Pounce cut him off, "No. You, American, should be long gone. Mistoffelees, we had better get you home. Now."

Looking between them, Mistoffelees swallowed and nodded, running a hand along Coricopat's once more. "Buenos noches," he said quietly.

Coricopat offered him a faint smile, ignoring the way Pounce's jaw tensed, "Good night."

With another faint smile, he finally turned back to Pounce, trying to force himself to keep from looking back at the other. Pounce glanced at Mistoffelees before starting toward the apartment building, "Are you out of your mind?"

"Yes," Mistoffelees said, looking down as they walked. "What were you doing out here anyway?"

"Had to run some errands. Was on my way home."

"Oh," Mistoffelees managed, still looking down. "I," he swallowed again, really unsure what he could possibly say.

"Why? That's all I want to know. Why?"

"Why?" the smaller teen finally looked up. "Why I'm doing this or why I'm feeling this?"

"Why are you doing this? How can you possibly even consider this?"

Floundering, Mistoffelees switched back into Spanish. "I don't know. But I'm sick of dealing with this, this hatred between us. It's stupid, there's no logical reason. He's sweet, and kind, isn't that what should matter?"

Pouncival followed the language change smoothly, "And when he has to introduce you to his parents? What then? You already know what your family thinks."

Mistoffelees flinched back at that. "I don't, I don't know."

"Or when he comes up injured? What will you do then?"

"Why, you planning on injuring him?" Mistoffelees snapped, finally looking up.

Pounce looked taken aback, "No, I'm just saying he's in a gang. There are fights. It happens."

"Then I'd see about doing the same damn thing I do for you and the other morons that live here," Mistoffelees snapped. "Which is patch you up. Besides, that argument could be used against your suite just as well."

Pouncival's eyes narrowed, "Fine, forget it all. We're practically home, but I'm having a hard time trying to figure out why not to tell your brother where I found you."

The smaller teen's eyes widened. "I-I..."

"If he doesn't ask I won't say it, but I'm still not sure why."

"Pounce," he said, voice small and reaching a hand out. "I'm still sorry."

Pounce drew away from the touch, "And I'm still not sure I'm ready to forgive you."

"I know," he murmured. "I just sort of wish that it could have been different. I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't."

"Well, it's been done. I'll get over it eventually, but not if I walk upon the two of you again likely."

"I'll keep that in mind," Mistoffelees, said, dropping his eyes again.

"Well, you'd better scurry upstairs before your brother gets home."

Giving the other teen a long look, Mistoffelees swallowed and nodded, before taking the stairs two at a time. Pounce followed more slowly, slipping into the apartment his family had.

Entering the apartment, Mistoffelees glanced around, trying to place himself back in the familiar surroundings, but they felt so odd now. Finally, he moved toward the small kitchenette, starting dinner.

Munkustrap arrived about fifteen minutes later, draping his coat over one of the chairs, "Buenos noches, Mistoffelees"

"Buenos noches, hermano," Mistoffelees replied, not quite turning but feeling his shoulder blades tense.

"How was your day?" The older brother continued in Spanish as he started getting dishes down.

"Usual," Mistoffelees replied. "School, work, things like that."

"And how were those?"

"The same," Mistoffelees shrugged. "Classes were hard, I got yelled at again. Work was fine, I think Bomba is more on edge than usual though." Which was a hilarious understatement for how on edge he was.

"Bomba's on edge?" Munkustrap paused, "I'll talk to her later, see what is going on."

"It's probably the rumble," Mistoffelees murmured, still not looking at his brother.

"Which isn't a rumble in the typical definition."

"Still, you're fighting in it," his brother said.

"It's a fist fight. I will be fine, a couple of bruises and scrapes. Nothing lasting."

"Until you get your head knocked into a brick wall, insuring in either brain damage or death," Mistoffelees returned. "Every fight is dangerous.

"Oh for the love of God... I will be fine. What has you so on edge?"

"What needs to put me on edge?" Mistoffelees said, finally turning. "Things were supposed to be better here and we're still just fighting!"

His brother murmured something at that, shaking his head, "We're coming to an end of that."

"We are?" Mistoffelees demanded, hands on his hips. "How can you possibly know that?"

"It's...well, alright maybe not permanently but that's what this is supposed to help sort out."

Mistoffelees just threw his hands up. "Because they need more reason to hate us, because we don't have enough issues, we have to look for more."

"They hate us already, and there are those they hate more."

"Like?"

"The police for one."

"That's not reassuring, brother," Mistoffelees snapped. "Isn't that a reason to make more people dislike us. We should be trying to get along, to, to, build bridges or..."

"Or kiss them at public dances?"

Mistoffelees blinked, shoulders going up. "Excuse me?"

"How do you recommend building bridges?" Munkus changed the question

"I don't know. Talking tends to be a place to start. We live in the same places, go to the same schools. Bitch about the same teachers even, god, why is it so hard to find common ground?"

"It..." Munkustrap sighed, "Well, we can't very well do so now."

"Of course not," Mistoffelees muttered, turning back to dinner, turning the stove off.

His brother's eyes narrowed, "What do you want me to do?"

"I don't know," he said, shaking his head, shoulders slumping.

"Then I'll keep doing what I feel is working."

"But it's not!" Mistoffelees slammed the pot back on the counter and winced as soon as he realized he'd done it.

Munkustrap scowled at that, "Then tell me what is?"

Bowing his head down, Mistoffelees sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I'm just tired."

"We all are, but there's no reason to take it out on each other."

"I'm sorry," Mistoffelees said, shoulders hunching.

"It is fine. I'm sorry as well."

Taking a breath, Mistoffelees finally turned. "I just, it's just," he paused and stepped forward, wrapping his arms around him, and holding on.

Munkustrap drew his little brother close, holding him tight, "I'm sorry. I know you worry, but I'll be alright."

"Please, be alright," he said, holding on.

"I'll...see if we can find a way to negotiate after this week, alright? The wheels for this are already in motion and I can't stop them."

"Alright," Mistoffelees murmured. "I just..."

"I know."

Mistoffelees took half a step back, pausing. "It's just, would it be so bad to get to know them?"

"…Maybe not." Sighing softly, Mistoffelees turned back to the food he'd left on the counter. "I'll give it a try, a sit down with Macavity after this week," Munkustrap reassured quietly.

Mistoffelees nodded, not quite believing his brother but wanting more than anything to be hopeful.

"I promise."

"Alright," Mistoffelees said. "Here, you should eat."

Munkus took the food, "Gracias, hermano."

That got a soft smile from the younger brother. "Will you be anywhere tonight?"

"I think I'm going to be going to Bomba's, but I'll be home tonight."

"Good," Mistoffelees said softly.

"There's a cease fire, right now, Mistoffelees. Do stop worrying tonight?"

Mistoffelees sighed again. "I'll try," he said, mustering a smile.

"Now, shall we eat?"

Nodding, the smaller teen sat down at the table.

"So you've been around all day then?" Munkustrap asked, conversationally.

Mistoffelees could feel his shoulders tense again. "Since work, certainly."

"And what did you do then?"

"Read, mostly. Worked on dinner," Mistoffelees mumbled, focusing on the food.

"What did you read?"

Mistoffelees blinked at that. "Don Quixote," he returned, a little unsure about the specificity of the question.

"Very good. Are you enjoying that one?"

Mistoffelees shrugged. "The same as usual," he said. "Come now, it's a book I can actually read in Spanish."

"Si, this is true," he glanced up, "I want to remind you that I don't want you seeing that American. Am I still clear?"

That got a rapid blink from Mistoffelees. "What about earlier?" he asked weakly. "About trying to be friends?"

"That does not mean I trust them with you. And certainly not this week." Eyes drifting down again, Mistoffelees nodded, not saying anything one way or the other yet. "Am I clear?" his brother pressed.

"Yes, brother, very," Mistoffelees said, not meeting his eyes.

"Good. I..." he sighed, "I'm just trying to keep you safe."

"I know you are," he said. Or at the very least his brother thought he was helping.

Munkustrap finished his dinner, rising, "I'm headed out to Bomba's. I'll be back later..."

"Alright," Mistoffelees murmured, once again wondering if his brother realized how often he was supposed to be left home alone. At least that afternoon he'd run out, but he could never admit that Munkustrap.

The older brother paused, "Are you going to be alright tonight?"

"Sure. I'll see if any of the other Sharks are around at the roof, or just read some more," he lied carefully.

"Alright. You know where to find me."

"Sure I do," Mistoffelees agreed. "Or just follow the sound of Bomba's yelling."

"I'm hoping to avoid another fight," Munkustrap responded. "Knock if you come over."

Mistoffelees rolled his eyes. "Knowing you two, I'll be more than sure to knock."

That earned a quiet laugh, before his brother leaned over, kissing his cheek. "Stay safe," he picked up his coat and left.

"You too," Mistoffelees said, watching his brother leave. Standing, he began washing the dishes, trying not to let his mind wander.

* * *

><p>So, after the lack of Mistoffelees in the last chapter, have an entire sequence with him!<p>

If anyone is interesting, over on the magical_notes Livejournal community (magical-notes . livejournal . com) we've been putting up commentaries that we recorded on each chapter, detailing not only some of the process but also what we think of certain scenes and how they fit into the story. The first three are already up, and the fourth should be appearing soon!

Some interesting things with this chapter is how very lonely Mistoffelees actually is in this story. His brother leaves him along for long stretches of time, he doesn't even enjoy school in this story (which is a rarity) and he goes to a job he doesn't enjoy, and then at most hangs out with the gang members while not approving of the gang in general. Thus, his complete attachment to Cori comes partly out of how dissatisfied and lonely he currently is.

We hope everyone's been enjoying the story so far! Please, if you have been enjoying it, drop us a line. Reviews mean so much to authors, and it only takes a moment of your time to make our days so much brighter. Though we've been getting a decent amount of hits per chapter, we've been getting very few reviews, and so we would like to stress just how much it means to us. Cheers all, and we hope you've been enjoying it!


	5. Maybe I Trust You to Always Come In

Macavity looked around Doc's, letting the door fall shut behind him. "That Cor of mine around here somewhere?"

"He's running a delivery, he'll be back any minute."

"Good," Macavity declared, plopping himself down on the table nearest the door. Coricopat arrived about three minutes later, pausing when he saw Mac. "Cor," Macavity greeted, as he pulled out a battered pack of cigarettes, lighting one of them.

"Hello, Mac." He handed the payment to Doc, before turning back to Macavity, "What do you need?"

"Well, there's that small matter of the Shark's brother," Macavity drawled, eyes straying toward Doc again.

"What about him?"

Macavity gave him a long look. "What do you think about him?"

"What do you mean what do I think about him?"

"Well, there's two ways that can go. What do you generally think of him, followed by what the hell do you think I'm asking you about him?"

"I...I think he's a nice enough guy. What I really think about him doesn't matter much..."

"It doesn't?" Macavity asked, cigarette smoke floating in front of his face.

"Well, why would it?" Coricopat shrugged.

"Because you seem to be the one running around kissing strangers?"

"Well, he's nice. Does it really matter what he looks like? What he talks like?"

"Nice is such a safe little word, Cor. Don't you think anything else of him?" Mac asked, arching a brow. Honestly, if he was going to start kissing strangers he'd be sure they were a bit more than just nice.

"What does it matter?"

"I don't know, if you're going to do the whole star crossed lover thing I'd sorta like a warning."

"I..." Coricopat drew a deep breath, "I think I might be falling in love."

Macavity's look was far from impressed. "You think you might?" he asked. It was a pattern they'd long since fallen into since they were kids, Coricopat hedging and Mac not allowing him. It almost didn't register that the other had admitted love because all Mac noticed was the hedging. When it did his eyes widened and he almost dropped the cigarette, clamping his teeth down on it.

"What? Fine, yes, I am. I'm in love with him, and really Mac is that such a bad thing?"

"Well, aside from the afore mentioned star crossed lovers bit? Didn't you get over that after reading fuckin' Shakespeare? Besides that, the fact that he's the shark's leader's _brother_ is a bit of an issue. In the way of I'd like you not dead."

"Why are we still fighting with them anyhow? Why were we fighting with them in the first place?" Coricopat countered.

"Hell if I know," Mac shrugged. "I think it has something to do with them trying to take what's ours though."

"They need a place to live. A place to stay, Mac."

Macavity scowled. "Sure, and they can live where they like so long as they stay the hell away from what's mine."

"Where are they supposed to go, Mac? Is this really worth all our lives?"

Mac just shook his head slightly. "Look, what's gotten into you? This used to not bother you so much. Were you seeing this kid for like months or something and I'm only now hearing about it or what?"

"No. I met him at the dance. But I told you I don't want this life anymore, Mac."

"Then what do you want?" Macavity demanded. "What can you have?"

"I don't want to look over my shoulder all the time. I'd...I'd like a job that lasts, maybe my own place. For life and for work. Maybe even try to go to college or something."

"What good would college ever do you?"

Coricopat looked briefly hurt at that, "It could get me out of here."

That got the worst expression out of Macavity so far. "Fine, if you're that desperate to get away."

"That's...not what I meant Mac."

"Really? 'Cause that's what it sounded like. Little PR chit is more important, that's just fine."

"No, Mac...I just want us to get out of this alive. Both of us. All of us."

Looking down, Macavity slid off the table. "Who the hell wants to die in their beds anyway," he muttered darkly, dropping the cigarette and stomping on it before storming for the door.

"Mac, wait, please! What's eating you?" Coricopat asked, following him.

"What do you think?" Macavity said, turning on him. "You're supposed to be my brother," he said, jabbing a finger in Coricopat's chest. "In goddamn arms and all you can do is moon over some kid that comes up to here," and he gestured emphatically somewhere in the middle of his chest. "And tell me how much you want away. Out of the world we built from the ground up. The ground up, Cor!"

Coricopat flinched, "Mac, is it so bad to have dreams? To want a lasting life? I know we built this, but what about building something that will last longer even? We could do it."

For a long moment Mac considered him before shaking his head slightly. "What else could two kids from the slums build but this?"

"What about a business? Something like that? Doc pulled off this drug store himself."

Mac's laugh was sudden and bitter. "I don't wanna turn into Doc."

Coricopat scowled at that, "Would you rather turn up at the morgue?"

"Maybe it would be better than slowly fading away and bitchin' at every poor soul who crosses my threshold," Mac snapped.

His second's expression turned cold, "Well, maybe that's what I'd rather have out of my life. I've seen possibilities Mac. Ones that don't end with me choking on my own blood on some street corner knowing that my death is just going to cause more."

"How poetic," Mac snarled.

"What do you want from me, Mac? Do you want me to say that I look forward to death? That I look forward to leaving my parents alone? That I revel in the idea of blood and pain?"

"No," Macavity snapped. "Because that was never how this started out. It was skin and skin and it was about having something and holding onto it. You want to leave, fine, may the door hit you on the way out."

"That's not where it started but even you can see that's where it's headed! What would the rumble have looked like if I hadn't come in? Huh?"

"Maybe that's the thing Cor," Mac replied. "Maybe I trust you to always come in." He turned to walk away again.

Coricopat didn't call him back this time, standing there gaping after him.

w.w.w.w

Tumble glanced over his shoulder as he slipped off of school grounds during lunch. He made his way along the street, kicking absently at a tin can until he reached the playground. He whistled once, hoping he was right about where the boy he was looking for was.

Tugger poked his head down from where he was up on the jungle gym. "Why, if it isn't little Tumble. What brings you out here?"

The other tilted his head back to look up at the other, "Lookin' for you, what's it look like?"

"No idea," Tugger said, dropping down. "So, what's up then?" he asked, perching on the bottom of the gym.

"Just didn't want to deal with math class again. Also, think it's fair to warn you that if you miss any more days truancy's going to be on your ass."

"Truancy can have my ass for all I care," Tugger said, rolling his shoulders. "Too jittery for class."

"Yeah, great, give the cops another reason to ride you. What do ya mean to jittery?"

"What do you mean what do I mean?" Tugger huffed. "Considerin' tomorrow you think I wanna sit around in some class to have some idiot lecturin' me?"

Tumble shrugged, "Maybe not. It ain't like you're fighting tomorrow though."

"Sure, says you now," Tugger huffed.

The smaller teen pulled himself up on the monkey bars, "So maybe we end up fighting. What do you think we'll do if the PRs win?"

"They won't," Tugger said, giving Tumble a long look. How could they?"

"I know, I'm just saying if they do..."

"Well it's foolish to even entertain the notion!"

Tumble flinched, "Right. Sorry."

"Well, first of all, have some more faith in Admetus. Then there's the fact if it turns into a brawl, we have the stronger fighters and it's our home."

The other fiddled with the scab on his ear, "Yeah, I know. But they're fighting for a home too. But...Alright then, what are we gonna do if we win?"

"What we've always done," Tugger said, eying him strangely.

"Keep fighting? I thought this meant a cease fire?" Tumble shrugged, "I mean..."

"Yeah?" Tugger asked, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

"Nothin'."

Tugger scowled, standing up. "Any reason you came lookin' around for me?"

"Cause you weren't at school, I was skipping math and I'm bored?"

Looking him over, Tugger nodded. "Want to, I dunno, cause trouble then?"

Tumble grinned, "Whaddya got in mind?"

"I donno, I'm sure there are some people that need heckling, some shops to raid," Tugger shrugged. "Nothin' violent like."

Tumble paused, considering and then shrugged, "Sure."

"I mean, unless you have any other plans," Tugger said, with a shrug.

"Not right now I don't."

Tugger chuckled, the sound low and deep. "Gives us all sorts of direction in life, donit?"

Tumble hopped down from the monkey bars, grinning up at the other, "Direction? Who wants it?"

"Not Jets, that's for sure!" Tugger declared, thumbs looped through his belt loops and jutting his hips out.

That got a laugh, "Yeah, right."

"What, you doubt the Jets?" Tugger arched a brow, teasing but as always there was a layer of something else there.

Tumble glanced at him, "Not what I meant, Tug."

"Ah, come on, I'm just toyin'," Tugger shook his head.

That got a bit of a grin, though there was an uncertainty to it, "Good. So, where we headin'?"

"Not sure we ever decided. What say you to the arcade?"

"Arcade sounds good to me. After you, Tug."

w.w.w.w

Coricopat leaned against the wall of the soda shop's building, watching for Mistoffelees. It was better for them to meet outside the territories he kept reminding himself, especially considering who they were.

It was several minutes before Mistoffelees appeared around the corner, having just run. "I can't stay as long," he said, skidding to a stop.

"Can't...Alright. Has something come up?"

"Pounce, my brother," he swallowed. "Just have to be more careful today is all."

Coricopat nodded slightly, "Macavity was pretty succinct yesterday too..."

Mistoffelees blinked at him, stepping closer. "Did, was, does he know?"

"Sort of. I don't know if he knows we're seeing each other. He knows I was in the territory after the dance."

"Everyone seems to know that," Mistoffelees sighed. "Does he not approve then?"

"Mac doesn't approve of anything I'm doing right now."

"I'm sorry," Mistoffelees said, taking Coricopat's hand. "You're close, right?"

Coricopat squeezed the other's hand, "We grew up together. He lived with my family for four years."

"So really close," Mistoffelees said. "God, I know my brother doesn't approve of you, but that still must be hard."

He sighed, shrugging, "He'll have to deal with it. I want out of it. All of it. He thinks it means I'm, I don't know, stabbing him in the back, leaving him high and dry, or something."

"Would you be?"

"I..." he sighed, "Maybe."

Looking down both sides of the street again, Mistoffelees leaned up, kissing the taller teen, meant to be a comforting gesture.

Coricopat drew him close, kissing him almost desperately. Pressing into the kiss, Mistoffelees' hands came up to settle around Coricopat's back. The taller teen leaned down, his hand tangling in Mistoffelees' hair.

Drawing away with a deep breath, Mistoffelees looked around again before resting his forehead against the taller teen's. "I wish I could go dancing with you."

"Why don't we just leave?" Coricopat murmured in response.

"Leave? For tonight? Or do you mean forever?"

"Both? Neither? I don't know."

Mistoffelees' tangled his fingers in Coricopat's shirt. "God, neither of us have finished school, my brother, we're the only family we have, and my home and your family and... and god the very thought sounds so tempting I want to pack tonight and be on the first train I see."

"We...should finish school. But I finish next month. Why don't we just take a time away? Come back after this has blown over?"

"It's never going to just blow over," Mistoffelees said. "Not in a month. Years, maybe."

"What if we leave once I'm finished? We can see about jobs, maybe more school? Start a new life, away from here. Away from the violence and hate."

"I'm at least a year behind you," Mistoffelees murmured. "If we left when you finished though... god, it's just, I just..." he trailed off, resting his head on Coricopat's shoulder and murmured something quietly in Spanish.

Coricopat stroked his hand gently over Mistoffelees' hair, "So we see about finding you somewhere to go to school. Somewhere that you can finish." He paused, "What did you just say?"

"I love you, my heart." He drew back again slightly. "If we wait a month, we'll never leave."

The taller teen paused, "You...you're right. I can finish my education, elsewhere. Maybe try for an alternate degree. Anything."

Drawing back, Mistoffelees took a breath. "But..."

"But?" Coricopat shook his head, "Either way, I can't leave before tomorrow night. I have to make sure Macavity doesn't do anything excessively stupid."

"If we leave, it has to be before tomorrow. Tomorrow..." Mistoffelees shook his head.

"Tomorrow...?"

"Tomorrow," Mistoffelees sighed. "I don't know. I just feel like everything is going to go wrong."

"I...I can't leave before then, Misto. It would burn every possible bridge I have to do so."

Biting his lip, the smaller looked down. "God."

"We'll leave tomorrow night, after everyone's asleep, alright?"

"Alright," Mistoffelees said quietly. "Alright."

"We'll make it work, Mistoffelees," the taller teen promised quietly.

He nodded, looking down the street again. "And today?"

"Today...we...could go for a walk?"

"A walk?" Mistoffelees repeated with a small smile.

"Well, yes? I mean unless you'd rather something else?"

"Dance," Mistoffelees said with a small smile. "But I wouldn't know where."

"I think there's a place a few blocks from here. When do you have to be back?"

"Before my brother gets home," Mistoffelees said. "Seven, usually."

"Then we've got time to go to that place and get at least a dance in."

A grin broke out over Mistoffelees' face. "Great."

"Shall we then?" Coricopat offered Mistoffelees his arm.

"Yes," Mistoffelees agreed, sliding his arm through Coricopat's. "Worry about tomorrow, tomorrow."

Coricopat tilted his head to kiss the other's temple, "Yes, worry about that then."

w.w.w.w

Several hours later, Mistofofelees reached the apartment door, opening it slowly.

Munkustrap looked up from where he was working on dinner, "Work run late then?"

Blinking rapidly, Mistoffelees nodded. "Y-yeah, it ran a bit later than usual. You, meanwhile, are home early."

"Interesting, I would have sworn I saw a light in Bomba's apartment..."

"Well," Mistoffelees swallowed. "It was a project I was working on, I think she left earlier."

"Really? So it had nothing to do with that American?"

His entire spine tensing, the younger brother froze for a damning second. "The American?"

Munkustrap's eyes narrowed, his entire being tensing as he settled back into their native tongue, "How could you do this?"

"Do what?" Mistoffelees tried in one last-ditch attempt.

"Do not lie to me. You have been out with the Jets lieutenant."

Breath hitching, Mistoffelees finally nodded, the motion jerky. "Yes."

"How could you do this? You know what I think of them! You know how I feel about this!"

"But it's not just about how you feel, brother! It's about my feelings too."

"And what are those, Mistoffelees? I don't think I've heard them," Munkustrap snarled.

"I-I, I like him. I want to get to know him. Is that so wrong?" the younger brother asked, taking a step back.

"It is if you're lying to me about this. You barely know him. Or what he's capable of."

"I know what you're capable of," Mistoffelees replied, chin tilting back slightly. "What more could he do?"

Munksutrap gaped at him, "What...You..."

"You can't take the moral high ground when you run your own gang," Mistoffelees continued. "You act like he's so much worse but don't you do the same things? Why is it acceptable for me to love you but not him?"

"I...That is not a fair comparison, Mistoffelees."

"Why not?" he demanded.

"What reason does he have for your loyalty?" Munkustrap countered.

Eyes dropping down and to the side, Mistoffelees tried to change tactics. "And if someone told you to stay away from Bomba, would you?"

Munkustrap stared at him for a long moment, "How is that the same thing?"

"Be-because I care about him and..."

"Care about him? Someone you've only known for handful of days, not even that?"

"Does that really matter?" Mistoffelees cried. "How long before you cared about Bomba? Me?"

"You're my brother, that's different," Munkustrap replied testily.

"And Bomba?" Mistoffelees pressed.

"Well, I didn't kiss her the first time I met her for one!"

"Did you want to?" Mistoffelees asked. "Have you never felt that gut wrenching want around someone and just know you wanted to see them again?"

"I don't know when that developed with Bomba. We knew each other as kids."

"So what," Mistoffelees spread his arms, anger and fear curling in his stomach. "You think I should stay only with those I know?"

"I think I would feel better about it," Munkustrap snapped.

"It's not about making you feel better, brother."

"I do not trust them. I've seen them in a fight, and I do not trust them."

Taking another deep breath, Mistoffelees ran a hand through his hair. "And him? Have you seen him fight?"

"He only supposedly stopped running with them a month ago."

"So have you seen him before?" Mistoffelees asked, voice strained.

"Thinking back? Yes. He's efficient," Munkustrap said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"That hardly sounds terrifying," Mistoffelees mumbled.

"Until you face that efficiency with a weapon in hand."

Dropping his gaze again, Mistoffelees sucked in a breath. "Brother, I love him. Isn't that enough?"

Munkustrap froze at that, "You _what_?"

"I love him," Mistoffelees repeated but took a full step back as he said it anyway.

His brother didn't say anything for a long moment, "I..." He drew a deep breath, trying to calm his temper, "I'm going out. I'll be back later."

Mistoffelees' jaw worked for several moments of blind panic before he nodded and stepped aside. His brother exited, the door all but slamming behind him. His footsteps could be heard on the stairs that ran beside their apartment as he headed up to the roof.

Mistoffelees stumbled over to the nearest chair and sank down, his head in his arms.

* * *

><p>The scene with Mac and Cori was, strangely enough, one of the more painful to write, since so much of that is about to go wrong. Hindsight is going to be <em>no one's friend<em> in this story.

We hope everyone has been enjoying this story, and it would mean a lot to us if our readers could take a moment to leave a review. It makes your authors feel quite appreciated and when dealing with midterms and a retail job that means quite a lot. We even accept annon. reviews. Cheers all, and thank you again for reading!


	6. Getting Past Tomorrow was Always Enough

That same night found Mac in Griddlebone's bed, his nose pressed against her hair as he looked across the room toward the window. His arms were wrapped securely around her waist and he was mumbling something inconsequential.

She sighed, tilting her head back to rest against his shoulder. Her fingers traced over his knuckles, "Mac...we..."

"Hm?" he hummed, hand turning over to interlace their fingers. "What about us?"

"I love you."

That made him pause a long moment, before he dropped his hand to gather her closer against his chest. "Love you too, Grids," he mumbled into her hair.

"I just worry, I suppose. I guess it comes with the territory though, huh?"

"It comes with the territory," he agreed, a pang in his stomach after yesterday's conversation with Cori. "Hey, Grids?"

She tilted her head to look at him, "Yeah, Mac?"

"Do you ever think about what life would be like, if we... got out? Stopped fighting or whatever and actually tried to do what those damn adults keep telling us to? Clean up, get a job, things like that?" His thoughts were scattered but he anchored them in stroking Griddlebone's wrist.

She closed her eyes, thinking about it, "Well, maybe once in a while..."

"What do you think about it?" he asked softly.

"I think it might be nice someday to maybe think about settling down. With you, I mean. But I don't know if this is the place to do it."

Macavity swallowed. "Yeah, who else would you settle down with anyway?"

"No one. I love you, Mac. You alone."

Macavity bit his lip, nuzzling against her blond hair again. Damn, Cor had been putting all sorts of thoughts in his head and his worldview was still trying to make space for all of it. He considered the slants of light from the streetlamps coming through the blinds again. "Where would you want to settle down?"

"I don't know. Somewhere safer to raise kids if we ever wanted them? I mean, for now we could settle anywhere, but we'd need somewhere safer if we wanted kids."

The tall teen blinked rapidly. "You want kids?"

"Someday?" she offered.

He fell silent for a moment, trailing his hand along her arm again. "I've never even thought about kids before."

"What do you think about the future, Mac?"

"I _haven't_," he replied. "It just, getting past tomorrow was always enough for me."

"Well, what happens when the fight ends tomorrow?" she asked.

"Donno. There's the day after that, and the day after that. But, I'm starting to think about weeks, months, years even," he paused, kissing her neck behind her ear. "I just don't know anymore."

She arched her neck to let him have better access, "I mean in the short term. If you win, if they win. What happens?"

"Donno that either. We have a deal about walking away from the territory but I'm not sure either side could keep it. Me and that 'Straps guy, we have a good handle on both our gangs. I'm just not sure it's enough."

"What do you think about him?"

"Who, 'Straps?" Macavity drew his neck back slightly. "I don't know. He's always just sorta been the enemy on the other side of a line."

"What if he wasn't?" She pressed quietly.

"I don't know," he repeated, scowling. "As I said, I never paid him much mind. I don't know that much about him. I mean, he seems competent enough, he can fight, I'll admit he's not a terrible dancer but... anything beyond that I've never given a damn to find out."

"Crazy idea, but hear me out. What if you tried for an alliance instead of a rivalry? I mean we all need somewhere that's ours, but..."

Macavity sighed. "Alliance. Don't that sound grand..."

She frowned slightly, "It was just a suggestion."

"I know, love," he said, drawing her close again. "I know. I even appreciate it. Don't mean I like it right now."

Grids curled against him, "I just...I hate seeing you hurt."

"Not sure I much like getting hurt," he assured her.

"Just...be careful, and think about it?"

"Me, careful? Don't you know love, I'm always careful," he chuckled into her hair.

She smiled, "Good. Keep it that way."

"Not aiming to change it any time," he replied, leaning over to kiss her. Grids leaned up to kiss him, pressing against him.

Pulling her closer, he rolled them over. "Any other plans for the night?" he teased, drawing back slightly.

She smirked at him, "Oh I can think of some things, but nothing pressing that requires you to leave."

"Good," he rumbled, the sound coming from deep in his chest. "Exactly what I would like to hear."

Grids pressed into another kiss, languidly. Arms going around her again, Mac returned the kiss, hand running down her side. "So, I can stay the rest of the night?"

She arched at that, "Of course you can. Why wouldn't you?"

He chuckled. "I don't know, other things to do, something like that," he smirked. "But don't' worry, if you had said no, I would have put up a fuss."

Grids grinned, "Good." Still grinning, he leaned down to kiss her, letting himself meld against her.

w.w.w.w

Munksutrap watched as the last of the Sharks left the roof. He knew Bomba was still there, but he hadn't yet spoken. He'd hoped to distract himself, but he kept playing the conversation with Mistoffelees over in his head. He turned, looking at the lights up and down the street in the windows of the other apartment buildings, "I'm out of my mind, aren't I?"

Bomba looked up in some surprise from her skirts that she was arraying as she sat down nearer to him. "Out of your mind?" she asked with a head tilt.

"I...I'm trying my best. What I think is the best for us. But I can't seem to get it right."

Even after the fuss she put up over her skirts, she rose again, moving over to him. "What aren't you getting right?"

"This thing with the Jets. Mistoffelees. Us."

"We're doing just fine. Can't say the same of Misto, all things considered, but what worries you about us?" she asked with a frown, hand on her arm.

"Maybe nothing, but...I seem to have done well enough ruining other things at this rate."

"You worry," she said, hitting his arm. "I don't approve of this rumble business, but as you've said several times it's just a skin fight. So why are you worrying?"

"Because it's what I do. I don't want you to get hurt. I don't want Mistoffelees to get hurt, but I'm terrified that you both will."

She shrugged. "We're strong. I am at least and I'm not sure you give him enough credit."

"He's seeing one of them."

"Them? You mean an American?"

"Yes, I mean an American. I mean the lieutenant of the Jets."

Her eyes darted down and then back up. "And you do not approve." It was not a question.

"I don't trust the American. I've fought him. I don't like him."

"But what does Misto think of him?" she asked.

"...He says he loves him."

That brought Bomba up short a long moment. "_Loves_ him?" she repeated in shock.

Munkustrap nodded, "That's what he says. I don't...I can't..."

"Can't what?" she asked softly, leaning against his side.

"I don't know what to do," he wrapped an arm around her gently. "I don't trust the American. I don't trust him with my brother, but Mistoffelees thinks he's in love and that terrifies me. I just...I have no way to say that to him. Instead I lose my temper, I yell, we fight."

"You and your yelling," Bomba said fondly. "Can't you just explain that you're scared? He thinks you're treating him like a child and he resents it."

"How am I supposed to explain that?"

"You could just say it," she said with a huff of laugher. "Rather than trying to act so tough."

"It won't change what he thinks he feels. Can someone be in love that fast?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "I wouldn't be inclined to believe it. But I would hate anyone trying to tell me otherwise. I know it's hard, but maybe you need to let him see that for himself?"

"This is Mistoffelees. He can be impulsive. I don't know if I want to know what he might do if he thinks he's in love..."

Pursing her lips, Bomba nodded. "You're right. It would probably be better to stop this now before it gets anywhere out of hand. He'll resent it, because who wouldn't? But it would be better than the American revealing his character or some other travesty."

Munkustrap looked at her for a long moment, "I'm too tired to sort out whether you're being sarcastic or not, mi amor."

"I'm mostly not," she said, leaning up to kiss him. "I worry for Misto too. I'm just not sure which is more dangerous-banning him from the American or letting them destroy it themselves."

He kissed her gently, "I tried banning Mistoffelees and he's still managed to see him. Have you met the American?"

"Briefly," she admitted. "He showed up at the shop, looking for Mistoffelees."

Munkus tensed very slightly at that, but nodded, "What did you think?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "I hoped that seeing him again would cure Misto of his romantic notions but I guess it hasn't."

"I beat him home today. It's how I found out."

Bomba's eyes widened. "My god," she said carefully in English. "Did you figure out where he was?"

"No. Just that he was out with the American. I..." He sighed, "He tried to tell me work had run late."

"So he's hiding it," she sighed.

"And I think that may be what frightens me the most. I know I'm hardly being receptive to it, but for all I knew he was lying bleeding in a back alley somewhere!"

She sighed again and nodded. "God..."

"I don't know what to do..."

"I don't either," she said, squeezing his arm. "I wish I had a good answer for you."

He drew her into a full embrace, leaning down to kiss her, "Thank you. I...should go talk to him."

"You should," she agreed. "He probably needs it."

"I...can try to come by later if you like?"

She smiled. "You could sneak in the window."

Munkus laughed quietly at that, "I might just do that. I'll see you later, mi amor."

"Until then, love," she said, kissing him quickly. "Go comfort your brother." She paused for a moment after saying that though. "That rumble tomorrow, it's just a skin fight?"

"It is. A one on one fist fight, that is all."

"Good," she said, nodding firmly. "Now go comfort that poor soul that calls himself your brother."

He kissed her lightly, "I'll see you later."

"I'll be waiting up, so don't take too long," she said, trailing a hand across his chest and descending the stairs in a ruffle of her skirts. He watched her go appreciatively before heading downstairs himself and quietly entering the apartment he and his brother shared.

Mistoffelees was still at the table, though he had spread homework out in an attempt to do it. He hadn't eaten but the half started dinner was carefully finished and packaged away in the fridge, the dishes cleaned and put in their homes. His head snapped up when his brother entered, and he swallowed hard.

Munkustrap paused at the sight of his brother. He hesitated for a long moment before moving over and kneeling down to embrace the other where he was sitting, "I am sorry for how I left."

Folding himself into the embrace, Mistoffelees just held on a long moment. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"I know. We..." Munkustrap closed his eyes, drawing Mistoffelees as close as he could without pulling the smaller teen off the chair, "We do need to talk."

His younger brother nodded, but slid off the chair of his own accord. "Okay. We need to talk."

Taking a deep breath, Munkustrap spoke quietly, "I want to hear what you have to say first, and then I'll explain my side, alright?"

Mistoffelees drew back slightly. "What I have to say?"

"You said you love him, I...I'm trying to figure out why. I was hoping you could explain to me."

"Oh," he said, voice small. "I just... I can't explain it to myself. The whys or whens or hows. But I just, I feel like I love him so much. It's like I always have and always will."

Munkustrap sighed, "I...see. Or I think I do."

"Really?" Mistoffelees asked, brightening somewhat.

"It does not mean I approve," the elder brother warned. "Now it's my turn. I've already told you I don't trust him, but apparently banning you from seeing him does not work. I don't understand _why_ you've fallen for him, or whether it really is more than an infatuation which feels like love. I am laying ground rules here, though. You are _not_ to be out with him after dark. And you are _not_ to go into Jets territory alone with him. I would lock you up like Rapunzel if I thought it would help, but..." He sighed, shakily.

"Do you disapprove that much?" Mistoffelees asked, voice small.

"I don't know. I...perhaps? I just cannot connect the Jet I know of with someone you would fall in love with." He looked around the small apartment, "And I do not ever want to go through the panic I did when I got home tonight again."

"I'm sorry," Mistoffelees said automatically but still meaning it. "I didn't realize I wouldn't be home before you."

"And that somehow makes this better? For all I knew you were bleeding to death in an alleyway somewhere."

"It won't happen again," Mistoffelees said softly. "Maybe in time you'll come to see-"

"Come to see what, Mistoffelees?" Munkustrap cut him off, his tone somewhere between wary and irritable.

"That maybe he's not as bad as you think," Mistoffelees said finally.

His brother considered him for a long moment, "Perhaps."

"H-hopefully," Mistoffelees managed, looking down.

"I am sorry for leaving like I did earlier, but I am still not certain I approve of him. And I'm not sure if I will. I just...God Mistoffelees, I'm scared, well and truly. For you, about you."

"I," Mistoffelees finally nodded. "Alright," he said meekly.

"I love you, hermano, and I want to protect you from anything and everything. I know I do a poor job of it sometimes, often even, and I know I've made a mess of it this time, but I do."

Mistoffelees let his head fall against his brother's shoulder. "I know," he said softly. "I know. You do a good job." He didn't say that sometimes he had to take his own falls, but instead ran a hand up and down his brother's back. "I won't make you sorry so much."

Munkustrap drew his little brother close again, "And I will try to remember that you aren't a child anymore."

"Alright," Mistoffelees said with a shaky smile. "That would be nice."

"Have you eaten?"

"No," Mistoffelees admitted quietly.

"Then maybe we ought to try that?"

"Yeah," Mistoffelees said with a short laugh, finally drawing back. "Let's eat."

Munkustrap offered his brother a smile, rising to his feet finally, "What homework were you working on?"

"History," he replied, and sighed. "It wasn't going very well." He paused on his way to the kitchen, turning back. "I love you, brother. You know that, si?"

"Si, hermano. I know. I love you too, it's why I worry."

"Yeah," Mistoffelees offered him a smile. "I know."

w.w.w.w

The next afternoon, Mistoffelees found himself constantly look at the clock, mouth twisting each time the hand didn't change. Bombalurina gave him a long look. "You waiting for someone?" she asked, voice a little hard and his shoulders hunched.

"Bomba..."

"If you are late tonight, it will be your hide, not mine," she said. "Especially with this fight. Fifteen minutes, Misto, and you should use that to back away."

The smaller teen couldn't help but scowl at her. "I thought you..."

"What did I tell you about passionate love?" she returned. "It only leads everyone toward pain."

Mouth twisting, Mistoffelees returned to sewing, trying to ignore her.

A quiet knock came at the back door not long after closing time and Coricopat slipped inside. Bomba gave him a long piercing look. "Remember what I said," she said to Misto. "And get home." Without even looking at Coricopat she strolled out.

The American watched her go, blinking, "Do I want to know what she said?"

"Be home in fifteen minutes after last night and that I should use the time to back away," Mistoffelees muttered, still angry as he went to put the sewing away.

"I...She...I do need to be going after not all that long myself."

"Because of the fight tonight?" Mistoffelees asked, closing a cabinet and looking down.

Coricopat nodded very slightly, "Yes. I have to be there."

Mistoffelees sucked in a deep breath. "God," he said, turning finally.

"I...would miss it if I could, but I can't drop Mac like that..."

"I know," he said and sighed. "I know. But I still..."

"But…?"

"But I can't help but think something horrible is going to happen and..." he took another breath, trying to calm down.

"And if you're packed, we'll leave right afterwards. I'll be fine, Munkustrap will be fine. We can take care of ourselves. It's a fist fight."

Mistoffelees paused a long moment, his stomach twisted. "I..." he realized he had no idea what to do with his hands and braced them on the counter he was leaning against. "I don't, I don't know if I can just leave my brother like this..."

Coricopat drew a deep breath at that, "Then what are we to do?"

"I don't know. He was home before I was last night and we..."

"...You?

"Fought. He walked out for hours." The smaller teen looked down. "I don't know what to do."

"I...can't ask you to leave after that," Coricopat sighed. "I can't do that to you."

"God," he said looking away again and finally saying, voice soft. "Would, would your parents like me?"

The taller boy considered that before nodding, "I think so. My old man might not come around for a while, but he would eventually. My mother would love you thought I think."

"Really?" he asked, voice small.

He nodded, "I think so, yes."

Swallowing, Mistoffelees took a deep breath. "My brother still hates you," he said. "He said he's seen how you fight and doesn't trust you."

Coricopat dropped his gaze, "Not trusting me doesn't mean hating me...there's a possibility of eventually mending that, isn't there?"

"I don't know. I hope so," he finally stepped forward, reaching out for the other and pulling him into an embrace.

He wrapped his arms around the smaller teen, holding him close, "We'll figure this out. I don't want to lose you."

"I can't lose you," Mistoffelees murmured, pressing against him.

"I'll be fine, we'll be fine. We're going to make it through all of these hurdles."

"Okay," Mistoffelees said, nodding against his chest. "And after tonight..."

"I pull out and try to make peace with your brother. Let Mac take of that what he will."

"Okay," Mistoffelees said again, voice thick. "And then maybe someday we won't hide, and, and I could meet your family, and..."

"And I would love for you to meet my parents. And we can plan a future."

"I love you," Mistoffelees murmured, pressing closer.

"I love you too, so very much," Coricopat leaned down to kiss the other.

Pulling Coricopat hard into the kiss, Mistoffelees whimpered softly, trying to put as much as he could into the motion. Coricopat pulled the other flush against him, pressing desperately into the kiss, one hand cupping the back of the other's head.

Finally Mistoffelees drew back with a deep shuddering breath. "I need to get home..."

"And tonight I..." He drew a deep breath, "I can't walk you home. I'll be by afterwards? Just to see you."

"Okay," Mistoffelees said. "Tonight then." He gathered his things quickly, kissed Coricopat and fled out the door before he was too tempted to stay. Coricopat watched him go, slipping out and heading for Jets territory and whatever the night would bring.

* * *

><p>Hey folks, Meadowlark here! Now, those of you who read our authors' notes are probably at least partially aware that I rarely if ever contribute to the notes at the end of the chapters. I am going to write the one for this chapter, though, because I feel like I actually have something that needs to be said.<p>

This is a really important fic for both of us authors, but especially for VS. It's tied to a lot of aspects of her childhood and family things and I know she'd really appreciate hearing what you think about it. Four reviews on five chapters is disheartening, when we know the last two haven't gotten any at all. It's been a rough year for your author team and it really does brighten our days and give us something to look forward to when we get reviews. So, as the author you rarely hear from directly, I'm coming out of the shadows to ask you all to please take a couple extra seconds and just let us know if you liked it or not. We have anonymous reviews enabled and we do try to respond to our reviews.

Thank you for reading, if you'd like our opinions on the chapters we have commentaries posted over at the companion Livejournal community: magical-notes. livejournal. com, without the spaces.


	7. I Cannot Promise to Find Him First

The Jets gathered together under the highway, Macavity standing in front of the group with his arms crossed over his chest. The others jostled behind him but remained silent.

Munkustrap and the Sharks arrived a few minutes later, sizing up the other gang. Munkustrap looked around the Jets, "You seem to be one short, Jets."

"Do we now?" Macavity drawled, turning slowly to check and carefully keeping the scowl from his face. "Does that much matter?"

"No, just surprised that you choose to be here without a full compliment," he shrugged out of his jacket, passing it to Alonzo. "Shall we settle this?"

"Sure," Macavity drawled, motioning Admetus forward. The other gang member stood just about as tall as Macavity and they were built along the same lines. "Our best, your best."

Munkustrap considered the Jets chosen champion and nodded, stepping forward, "As agreed."

Stepping to meet the other, Admetus offered his hand to be shaken. "Now be gentlemen," Macavity admonished them.

Looking at the offered hand, Munkustrap shook his head, "I don't shake hands with people I hate, and we hate each other. It is a falsity."

"It's polite," Mac returned.

"It's a lie."

"Yeah, well, what did you think bein' polite was about?" Mac said with a scowl.

Munkustrap's eyes narrowed, but he shook his head, "In that case I _politely_ decline."

Mac laughed, the sound harsh and he motioned for Ademtus to do as he liked. The two sides fell into what looked like it was shaping up for a fight. Munkustrap kept himself on the balls of his feet, swinging in quickly and dodging back a bit to see about figuring out the other's reflexes.

Admetus was a solid fighter, used to using his bulk against opponents, but he was light enough on his feet not to be taken advantage of by a faster or smaller fighter. This became rapidly apparent to his opponent. Munksutrap was tall, but slender, used to relying more on speed than on bulk and he found himself pretty evenly matched.

There was a call over the general calls of encouragement from either gang, "Hey, hold it!" Coricopat appeared on scene as Munkustrap and Admetus broke apart again.

Mac blinked, tearing his eyes away from the fight which he'd been watching avidly. "Get with the gang," he said, voice low.

Coricopat shook his head, "No."

"Excuse me?" Mac asked and if possible his voice dropped further.

"I said no," Coricopat answered.

Munksutrap stepped back fully, holding a hand up for the temporary stop of the fight, "Something the matter, Jets?"

"No," Mac growled, whirling back on Coricopat. "Cor, _now_."

Coricopat shook his head, "I'm not taking sides here, Mac."

"Or perhaps he's got the courage to finally fight his own battles?" Munkustrap proposed.

"Shut up, PR," Mac growled. "Cor, the hell are you doin'?"

Munkustrap tensed, "You do not get to dismiss half of the party here. Deal with your internal struggles elsewhere."

Coricopat shook his head, "I don't have a fight with him, and frankly, Mac neither do you."

"Really?" Mac asked, voice strained. "How lovely of you to tell me. Now get the hell in line."

"No, Mac."

"Then what are you doin'?" Mac growled again, the other Jets shifting and Tugger for one looking like he wanted to start saying how right he'd been all along about Coricopat. Admetus was still standing in the space between the two gangs, wishing they would figure out what they were doing.

"I'm here to make sure none of you all kill each other, but I'm done with this, Mac. I've been telling you that all week."

"Telling him all week? You are not very clear about things, showing up at war councils and arriving here. It certainly looks as though you are actually seeking a fight, American," Munkustrap drawled.

Coricopat turned to Munkustrap, "If I am, it's certainly not with you."

"Well, I'll certainly give you one, _sir_."

"If you're not here for the gang, then you shouldn't be here," Mac said quietly, eyes still on Coricopat. "The door out is that way."

"That..." Coricopat turned to Macavity, "Mac, that's not what I meant..."

"Then what did you mean?" Mac asked. "This is not the time, Cor, for your damn philosophy."

"I'm here, Mac, but I'm not here to take sides."

"Really? And here I thought when you snuck out with someone your friends do not approve of, you chose your own side," Munkustrap remarked.

Mac nearly growled at the Puerto Rican. "If you're not on a side, you're not in the gang, so go _away._"

"Perhaps you are to cowardly to choose a side and stick to it?" Munkustrap offered cajolingly. "It would certainly suit."

Coricopat turned to face him finally, "It's no cowardice to avoid a fight you don't have."

"Spoken like a true chicken."

Mac spared a glance for the rest of the gang, who were watching, silent. "This isn't the deal," he tried to remind Munkustrap. "If we're done with this..."

"I'll take him on as a warm-up," Munkustrap responded. "A coward like him shouldn't make me break a sweat."

"Not the deal," Mac repeated, voice low.

"Are you afraid he would lose? I have already said I won't count that victory against your hold on the territory," Munkustrap mocked.

"Drop it," Macavity warned.

"Or what? You've given me no evidence otherwise. He never fights his own battles, you do it for him," Munkustrap pressed.

"Ain't that how brothers work?" Mac snapped and wished almost instantly to take it back.

"They also don't back out when their brothers need them," came the cutting response, his gaze turning to Coricopat. "What do you say, coward?" Mac could hardly disagree with that, and though his posture was still on guard he remained silent, actually looking to Coricopat for an answer.

"I've said my piece," the other replied quietly.

"That's not an answer, American."

Coricopat frowned, "I don't have to answer to you."

"Defiance, but no action. Cowardly at best, despicable at worst. Just like a Kraut. Your father is one, isn't he?"

Coricopat tensed, but didn't react more than that, "He's German, yes."

"This is not what we're here for," Mac said, voice snapping out between them. Every time he spoke he was starting to feel more desperate.

"We're here for a fight, but this cowardly Kraut seems to have put a stop to that," Munkustrap replied, his gaze never leaving Coricopat who was standing less than a foot away from him. "So what do you say, chicken? You willing to fight me?"

"I don't want to fight you."

"That's not what I asked, chicken."

Coricopat looked him dead in the eye, "We don't have a fight."

Munkustrap tensed, "Oh like hell we don't." He finally put a hand on the other's shoulder and shoved, "Stand up for yourself, you yellow-bellied Kraut son of a bitch."

Mac's voice was low and dangerous again. "Step away from him," he said.

Munkustrap ignored him, following Coricopat as the other stumbled, "Come on, coward." Coricoapt managed to straighten himself only for the Puerto Rican to set him off balance again with another push.

"Come on, Cor!" it was Tugger who yelled that. "Just hit him back!"

Coricopat backed up a step, "Munkustrap, I don't want to fight you."

"Strange, because I find myself feeling a serious urge to fight you," he pushed him again, Coricopat expecting it and not stumbling as much this time. What he wasn't expecting was the light knock to the side of his head which sent him tripping over his feet away from it. "Fight me, coward."

The other Jets were still trying to cheer Coricopat into action. "Cor, don't just stand there," Mac attempted.

"Munkustrap...Don't," Coricopat tried.

"Don't what, Kraut?" The leader of the Sharks caught him slightly harder in the shoulder-hard enough to bruise right on the collarbone. Coricopat stumbled back, but he still wouldn't fight.

Stepping forward past the still confused Admetus, Macavity pulled back on Munkustrap's shoulder enough to punch the Puerto Rican in the jaw.

Munksutrap stumbled back, barely catching his balance as he reached for the knife he kept in his back pocket. Fine, if the rules were that far out of the window, then weapons were welcome.

Mac blinked in surprise, before pushing Coricopat again, this time trying to shove him toward the gang, reaching for his own knife and hating the motion the moment he'd started it. But the knifes were already out on both their sides.

"Mac, don't!" Coricopat cried, taking a step toward the two leaders.

Munkustrap's gaze flickered that way before he started circling Macavity, his switchblade open and at the ready. Mac growled at Coricopat again, as Tugger stepped forward, dragging the other teen back with him to keep him out of the fight. The leader of the Jets feinted forward with his knife, still circling the other. He went to kick the other teen, trying to twist his arm at the same moment.

Munkustrap leaped back, lashing out with the knife as he tried to duck the other's weapon, narrowly missing getting cut. Sweeping his leg under Munkustrap's, sending the other teen down, Mac tried to press his advantage.

Munkustrap rolled away, hoping to avoid the blade, but not quite able to regain his feet yet. Following quickly, Mac tried to get low enough to strike without exposing himself, not quite managing the right balance.

"Mac, don't!" Coricopat managed to twist away from Tugger, moving forward.

At the sound of the other boy, Mac hesitated a moment, taking half a step back. Munkustrap, not distracted as much by the interruption, continued the motion he had started with his knife hand, the blade plunging into Macavity's stomach and stabbing up at an angle toward his heart.

The leader of the Jets barely had a moment to react, staggering backwards and crumpling in front of Coricopat and the other members, the knife dropping.

Coricopat froze momentarily as Munkustrap got to his feet, shaking blood drops from his hand. Coricopat moved swiftly, not thinking. He swept up Mac's knife and dashed over, catching Munkustrap's shoulder and slamming the knife home, a duplicate wound to the one just inflicted on Macavity.

Munkustrap's eyes widened and he gasped, stumbling back before collapsing.

Both sides of the gang were frozen until a police siren pierced the air, causing most of the members of either side to scatter.

Coricopat stood frozen, the knife falling from his hand. His gaze darted between the two bodies, turning Munkustrap over to confirm and stumbling back. He turned and fell to his knees in his best friend's blood. His hand moved to brush over the other boy's hair, "Mac...I...God..." His voice broke and he could feel the tears streaming down his face as he bent over Macavity's body, pulling the other into his arms and weeping.

Tumblebrutus stepped out of the shadows, "Cori, come on. We gotta go." The other boy ignored him until he came and lay a hand on his shoulder at which point Coricopat pushed him away. Tumble drew a shaky breath, "Coricopat, we have to go, the cops are on their way!" He grabbed the taller teen's shoulder and yanked him away from Mac. "Come on!"

Coricopat stumbled to his feet and let Tumble pull him away. They split up, taking different routes away from the scene as the police pulled up.

w.w.w.w

Mistoffelees was sitting at the main kitchen table, the same homework from last night spread over the table and it was in the same state of completion. He had his hands clasped in front of him, head bowed, and he might have been praying for all that he was doing nothing else. He'd been sitting that way a long time.

There was a frantic pounding on the apartment door, and Pounce's voice could be heard, "Misto!"

Head snapping up, Mistoffelees moved quickly, knocking the chair open. Yanking the door open he took a step back as he took in Pounce's appearance. "Pounce. What has happened?"

"The...the rumble, Misto..." Pounce stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

"The rumble?" Mistoffelees repeated, taking a step back. "What about it? It was just a straight forward fight, wasn't it?"

"It..." He drew a shaky breath, "Nobody meant for it to h-happen..."

"Happen?" Mistoffelees parroted back, throat dry. "What happened?"

"It...you see..." He drew a deep breath, "Th-there was a fight. M-Munkus...and there was a knife...and someone..."

"What happened?" Mistoffelees repeated, a note of high panic in his voice as he actually reached out and grasped both of Pounce's arms. "Pounce, what happened?" He wanted to shake the other and only barely managed not to.

Pounce pulled away from him, finally looking him in the eye, "Coricopat killed him."

The smaller teen's arms dropped and his mouth worked but no sound came out.

Pouncival stepped back, shaking his head, "I...have to go break the news to Bomba."

Mistoffelees was still just staring at him in shocked horror. "You're, you're lying..." he rasped out finally.

The other gaped at him, "Do you honestly think I'd do that?" he yelped.

"He, he _can't_ have..." the darker haired teen replied, that note of panic in his voice again.

"Well he did. You can ask anyone. They were all there," Pounce returned, a note of anger in his voice.

"But, b-but," Mistoffelees' mind kept shrinking back from the thought, his entire body shaking.

Pouncival hesitated but shook his head, "But it happened."

Mistoffelees flinched back, hating Pounce then for not offering more comfort and not allowing him to deny what happened. The other hesitated, reaching out to put a hand on the other's shoulder, "Are..."

The smaller flinched again, finally raising large eyes to look at the other. "I'm sorry I had to tell you that," Pounce said, voice softening slightly.

Mistoffelees couldn't help the bitter bark of hysterical laughter raising in his throat. "Th-then why did you?"

Pouncival frowned slightly, "Would you prefer it to have been Alonzo? Or someone else? Someone would have. Or you would have asked how, or who. And you would have found out."

Eyes widening, Mistoffelees gripped Pounce's arms again, mind finally focusing enough to remember his brother's intensely loyal second. "Alonzo! Where is Alonzo?"

"I don't know. We split ways to get away from there."

All Mistoffelees could think about was the gun that Alonzo owned, that he was so proud of showing off to the other Sharks. "Find him! Stop him from doing anything stupid, just...!"

Pouncival looked Mistoffelees in the eye, "Like stop him from killing the man who killed your brother?"

The smaller teen squared his shoulders, returning the gaze. "Yes. Hasn't there been enough killing?"

"I cannot promise to find him first," Pounce answered.

Taking a step away, Mistoffelees kept his eyes. "No, you can't."

He sighed, "But I will try."

"Thank you," Mistoffelees said, voice shrinking.

"Do you want me to send Bomba to you?"

"No," Mistoffelees managed, shaking his head. "No, I need to..." He had no idea what he could possibly do but he knew it had to be something else.

Pounce nodded slightly, "I will be back later to check on you, after I have found 'Lonzo."

Mistoffelees nodded, the motion jerky. Pouncival hesitated before finally slipping out of the apartment.

"Be careful," Mistoffelees said after him before taking several quick stumbling steps backward. Everywhere he looked reminded him of his brother. Nearly falling on his way to his room, he closed the door on the space they had shared the last several years, his back falling against the door. He sank to the ground, drawing his knees to his chest and burying his head in them.

Coricopat made his way carefully through the Puerto Rican territory, finally finding the right building and climbing the fire escape to Mistoffelees' window. He slipped into the window, pausing when he saw the smaller teen, "Misto...?"

Mistoffelees' head snapped up, his entire body frozen as he just stared at the other teen.

Coricopat looked far the worse for the wear. He hadn't had a chance to change, his clothes still stained with Macavity's blood and where he'd wiped his hand clean of Munkustrap's as well, "I...I came to find out if you'd heard…"

"You killed my brother," Mistoffelees said, voice sounding dead.

"I..." He swallowed, "Yes. I did. I-I don't know what went wrong. I d-didn't mean to, I didn't realize what had happened until he fell. But Mac...Mac was _my_ brother. When Munkustrap killed him...I'm sure he didn't mean it e-either. I just..."

"You killed my brother," Mistoffelees repeated, all the rage and pain and sorrow seeping finally into his voice. "You..." his breath caught.

Coricopat shook his head, "I did. I don't know what to say. I came to tell you what I'd done, and then I'm going to the police."

"No!" Mistoffelees said, suddenly launching himself to his feet.

The other startled back at that, "Wh-what?"

"N-no," he said again, looking around as if the room held the answers. "You, you need to go. Get away. If Alonzo..."

"I...I can't just leave, Misto."

"Why not?" he asked, throwing his arms out. "If Alonzo finds you, he'll kill you."

"And if I leave? What then?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, voice still strained.

"Where would I go? For how long? I'd rather take my chances here," Coricopat said.

"Chances?" Mistoffelees returned. "There are no chances here! Hasn't everything that happened more than established that?"

Coricopat flinched, "What do you want me to do then?"

"Leave," Mistoffelees repeated, voice strained. "Just leave, go anywhere else, just get away..."

"I can't! Don't you understand? Without Mac, my parents have _nothing_. I can't just leave."

"So you'll what? Stay and be killed?" he yelled, panic flaring again in his chest. "I can't lose you too tonight!"

"And if I leave you never see me again!" Coricopat snapped.

"Isn't that better than you dead?" Mistoffelees returned, not daring to say he had little worth staying for anymore.

"I..." He drew a deep breath, "Would you be able to leave with the person you knew killed your brother?"

For a long moment Mistoffelees stood frozen, jaw slack and not even breathing. Finally he drew in a long breath and nodded, the motion shaky.

"Then, I have to go to Doc and then I can be ready," Coricopat said, staring at him.

Sharply in drawing a breath Mistoffelees surged forward, wrapping himself around the other. Coricopat wrapped his arms around the other, "I-I..."

"I still love you, god, I still," Mistoffelees said, voice finally breaking. "I can't, I can't..."

"C-can't...?" Coricopat managed.

"Lose you, can't," he shook his head, and surged into a kiss instead, hands pulling at the collar of Coricopat's shirt.

Coricopat pressed desperately in the kiss, pulling the other flush against him. One of his hands strayed along the hem of Mistoffelees' shirt. Tilting his head and standing on his toes, Mistoffelees pressed closer, pulling back only enough to get out a "stay" before trailing open mouthed kisses along Coricopat's cheek and back to his mouth.

Coricopat nodded against the kiss, backing the other up and lowering him onto the bed, drawing back enough to pull off his own shirt and drop it alongside the bed.

For a moment Mistoffelees just stared up at him, eyes huge before he scrambled backward, pulling Coricopat toward him with hands on either side of the taller teen's face. Coricopat pressed down into the kiss, supporting himself on his hands over the other. His kisses were desperate, needy, rushed.

Wrapping his arms around Coricopat's back, Mistoffelees pulled him down further, as much desperation marking his movements. Coricopat's hand moved to fumble with the buttons on their jeans.

"I love you," Mistoffelees managed to get out between kisses and breaths. "I," he started again and instead gave in to the sheer desperation of the moment, letting it carry them both along until finally they stilled.

Coricopat drew Mistoffelees close into a gentler embrace, curling around him, "I love you, Mistoffelees."

Pressing his nose against Coricopat's shoulder, Mistoffelees tried to just breathe, and enjoy the warm embrace. But now that his mind was quiet and his body relaxed everything he had been ignoring started to crash down. It started with a few hitched breaths, but soon enough he was sobbing into the other's shoulder.

The taller teen drew him closer, rubbing small circles on his back, "Shh, that's it." He swallowed hard, his mind flickering over the events of the last few days.

Trying to take a breath the smaller just dissolved further into sobs, pressing the length of his body against Coricopat's and holding on. Coricopat looped a leg around the other, pulling him even closer, "We'll...we'll find somewhere away from here. From the violence and hate. There's got to be somewhere, peaceful."

"Where?" Mistoffelees mumbled into his shoulder.

"Out of the city. The countryside maybe? Peace and quiet and open air."

Mistoffelees took a shuddering breath, finally calming. "What sort of a place would we live in?"

"A small house, in a small town. Maybe a medium sized town. Comfortable neighborhood. No gangs. No fights."

"You really think such a place exists?" Mistoffelees asked, tilting his head back on the pillow.

"It's got to somewhere. I mean, it can't all be death and fights and cities..."

"What would we do there?" Mistoffelees asked, voice soft.

"Finish schooling? Get jobs? Live our lives how _we_ want to?"

Hand trailing up to Coricopat's collarbone again, noticing distantly the bruise there, Mistoffelees offered him a shaky smile. "I, god, I want that."

Coricopat's hand moved down to massage Mistoffelees' hip, "I...that is the dream isn't it? Why don't we try for it? I just have to go to Doc, ask him for my back pay. I've had him keep it for me."

The motion made Mistoffelees close his eyes a moment. "Not yet," he said softly. "Just, not yet."

The taller teen leaned down to kiss him gently, "I'll stay for a while longer, and then I'll go. If you can get away and meet me at Doc's we can leave from there, and I don't have to risk running into Alonzo in his own territory."

Mistoffelees nodded. "I'm still mostly packed. I should be able, able to get there quickly."

"But not yet," Coricopat murmured, kissing the other's temple.

"Not yet," Mistoffelees agreed, tilting his head back to drag an open mouthed kiss across Coricopat's mouth. "Need, need you to still be here."

Coricopat pulled him closer, nipping lightly at his jaw line and tilting his head down further to continue the ministrations to his throat.

Shifting against him, Mistoffelees pulled back suddenly, searching for Coricopat's eyes. "No matter what happens," he said, voice soft. "I love you. There's gotta be a place for us, somewhere, a place for us. We'll have time together and time to spare."

"And I you. Forever. No matter what happens."

Pulling back a little further, Mistoffelees shifted around to straddle Coricopat's waist, leaning in for another slow kiss. It wasn't quite languid, pain and fear still marking it with a layer of desperation, but it was gentle. Coricopat leaned up into the kiss, his hands running down along Mistoffelees' spine, massaging the tense muscles he encountered along the other's back.

Letting out a low moan, Mistoffelees rested his forehead against Coricopat's. "When do you have to go?" he asked, voice soft.

"Doc's closes at midnight. I just have to be there by then."

Mistoffelees leaned back to look at the clock and swallowed. "I don't want to let this moment go," he admitted softly. "I'm scared to."

"Shh. Then don't let it go. We'll remember it for as long as we live."

Mistoffelees laughed softly, the sound strained. "Yeah." He leaned back down, dragging their mouths together. Coricopat's hand moved to tangle in Mistoffelees' hair as his other traced patterns on the smaller youth's hipbone. Breath catching, Mistoffelees slowly let his weight fall against the other, hands stroking his hair.

* * *

><p>So, dear readers, VS really can't tell which scene of this chapter makes her want to cry more. She's thinking the second one for the sole fact that every time she hears "Somewhere" she starts crying (It's second only to "Maria" in terms of tears). Sometimes all it takes is the instrumental.<p>

Thank you all who have read this, and please do take the time to leave a review. It means a lot and it really helps. We'll see you again the next chapter.


	8. So You Still Think You Love Him

Tumble glanced over his shoulder, he'd barely avoided the cops after the fight. He didn't want to deal with any of the repercussions at the moment, he was pretty sure he'd be seeing the fight and hearing it in his dreams for a good long while. The teen finally reached the regrouping place that the Jets always used when they didn't want to deal with Doc right away.

At the moment the yard stood empty. Moments after Tumble arrived there was a sharp whistle to herald Tugger's arrival. He dropped down from a fire escape, looking around and finally considering Tumble.

The smaller teen watched Tugger quietly for a moment, still looking ready to bolt, "H-hey."

"See you made it then," Tugger said, tucking his hands into his belt loops. "Anyone else?"

Tumble shook his head, "I-I don't know. A-ain't seen nobody y-yet."

Tugger frowned at him. "Somethin' wrong with your voice there, Tum?"

"N-no," Tumble mentally swore. He'd been able to hide his stammer for years, it really only came out once in a great while around the Jets, and even then he could pass it off as something else.

The taller teen looked far from impressed, peering closer at the teen. "You sure? Lotta extra letters runnin' around."

Tumble stepped back, glancing around, "I-I'm f-fine." Damn it, where were the others to change focus?

"Really?" Tugger asked, taking another step forward as Admetus dropped onto the scene.

Tumble backed up again, nodding but refusing to open his mouth again. Ricky shimmied under a chain link fence, slinking over to join the others.

"There you all are," Tugger huffed. "Someone report!"

"Report what?" Ricky answered, "The fact that Mac's dead under the highway, the fact Cori's missing or the fact the cops are lookin' for any and everyone who might have somethin' to do with it?"

"Well," Tugger said, leaning back with his hands still braced in his belt loops. "That's what I meant."

"Yeah, well everyone knows all those things, don't they?"

Tugger narrowed his eyes at the smaller teen. "You implyin' something, pip squeak? Look, things are rough right now but we'd better start sortin' things out before Officer Growltiger starts sniffin' about."

"And how are we s'pposed to do that, Tugger?" Ricky replied, scowling.

Using his taller height, Tugger made as if to jump Ricky. "Listen you, you want to all get picked up by the police?"

Ricky took a couple of solid steps back, "Course not, I'm jus' saying, what are we supposed to say and do?"

"Get stories straight for one," Tugger said. "Question bein', the hell's our story?"

"We weren't anywhere near there, they killed each other. We mighta heard somethin' but were told not to come," Ricky offered.

Pausing a moment, Tugger nodded just as a sharp whistle went through the air. It was nothing like the Jet's signal, but belonging to none-other than Officer Growltiger. "Scatter," Tugger growled and Admetus was gone.

Ricky glanced around and took off in the opposite direction from Admetus.

Grabbing Tumble's upper arm, Tugger turned him and started strolling, trying to look casual.

"Hey! You! Stop!" the officer called, coming into sight.

Tumble managed not to tense, glancing up at Tugger. He drew a breath, steadying himself and hoping he wouldn't stammer again, "Tug...?"

"Yeah?" he asked, voice low.

"We d-don't stop he'll take us in for resisting..."

"Wait for it," Tugger replied as Growltiger blew into the whistle again.

"Stop!" he called again and this time Tugger did, turning slowly and a full grin on his face.

"Oh, were you calling to us?"

"Anyone else on this street?" Growltiger demanded, stepping forward.

Tumble turned with Tugger, glancing up at Growltiger, "We couldn't be sure, Officer."

"I'll crack your skulls next time you don't stop," Growltiger snarled, Tugger's grin still firmly in place.

"Top of the evenin' to you too."

"What's the matter, s-sir?" Tumble asked, mentally cursing his stutter.

"I know you were down under the highway tonight-" Growltiger started and Tugger cut in with forced nonchalance, looking at Tumble out of the corner of his eye for the stutter again.

"We was at the playground, sir."

Tumble nodded at that, "We like it there. Keeps us off the street." He could feel the letters getting scrambled in his head again and closed his mouth.

"It gives us all sort of comrade ship," Tugger continued, flippantly.

Tumble nodded his agreement, "A place for pleasant p-passtimes." Damn it, no more use of the same sound in the same sentence this conversation.

"Okay then, wise apples, get your asses down to the station house," Growltiger declared, thumping his hand with his nightstick.

Tumble took a half step back at that, "Which way's that, sir?"

"Don't get smart with me-" Growltiger started.

"This way," Tugger said brightly, tripping Growltiger, taking his nightstick and taking off as the large man tried to regain his balance.

Tumble bolted in a different direction from Tugger, knowing where to meet up this time, but mostly just hoping to get enough distance between himself and Growltiger that it would take the officer a good long time to locate him again.

Growltiger really was getting too old for this, he realized as he pushed himself back to his feet, both of the hoodlums long gone. Shaking his head he started off in the direction he hoped most likely to find anyone.

Tugger meanwhile looped back to meet up with Tumble and what he hoped were some of the others, proudly displaying the nightstick and hat he stole from the cop. Tumble shot him a look for still carrying those things, "Why didn't y-you ditch those?"

Ricky appeared, hopping down from a wall nearby, "Where'd you get them?"

"Off Growltiger himself," he told Ricky, puffing his chest out and ignoring Tumble.

The youngest of the trio looked impressed, "Wow, how'd you manage that?"

"Not too hard. Just gotta know his weakness and stuff. Guys a bastard, through and through," Tugger said.

"D-don't let him fool you, he just off-balanced him," Tumble muttered. "Y-you get away c-clean, Ricky?"

The other eyed him oddly at the stutter, but nodded, "Yeah, no trouble here."

"Tumble, seriously," Tugger snapped. "What is wrong with you?"

Tumble looked at the other, "Y-you mean besides th-the fight?"

"Well, that and your stammer which makes you sound stupid and the way you reacted to dear Officer Growltiger. What's _with_ you tonight?" the taller teen asked, bracing the nightstick on his hip and glaring.

The smaller teen looked briefly hurt but covered it up as best as he could, "Reacted to Growltiger? T-tell me what I did wrong there T-Tugger, since obviously the s-stutter means I sound stupid, and logically m-must be so."

Tugger just rolled his eyes as Admetus slipped up. "Has anyone been home yet?" he asked, looking around the small group.

"Home, what for?" Tugger snapped.

Tumble shook his head. Ricky hesitated, "I went by there, but there were cops too close, didn't get there."

"Anyone been to the station?" Admetus continued.

"Yeah..." Ricky nodded.

"Thought you s-said you got away c-clean," Tumble managed.

"I did! Just...not right away."

"Well what happened?" Tugger demanded.

"Nothin'," came the response, "a big ol' nothin'."

"Then why they tryin' to get any of us down there?" Admetus asked with a frown and Tugger stepped forward, spreading his arms.

"Cos they're idiots who don't know nuthin'," Tugger replied.

"They're tryin' to shake us up, get us to say somethin'," Ricky supplied.

"We have nuthin' to say, right folks?" Tugger asked, looking around.

The others nodded, Tumble locking eyes with Tugger as he nodded.

"Good. And no one's seen that slimly bastard, Cor?" he asked, looking around.

Negative head shakes this time, though Tumble spoke, "I...w-wouldn't label him s-so fast, Tugger."

"You wouldn't?" Tugger demanded. "Then how the hell would ya? He made very clear he doesn't want to be a part of this outfit, let alone the fact that he got Mac killed."

"H-he didn't mean f-for Mac to get killed. A-and who's to blame him a-after t-tonight for wanting out?"

For a moment there was dead silence. "Why, Tum, you want out?" Tugger asked, voice low.

"I-I didn't s-say that."

Tugger shook his head, turning away in annoyance. "Whatever, we gotta still make sure those PRs know we're on top."

"What, you w-want _more_ death t-tonight? What the h-hell is wrong with you?" Tumble snapped.

Tugger whirled on him, the others taking a step back. "Death? Who said anything about death? You want them to take our territory then, the only thing we actually have left?"

"You see what happened when we tried to stop it? Mac's _dead_, Tugger! Y-you so anxious to join 'im?"

Tugger took a step toward the other, towering over him. "No. But I'd rather fight for what he fought for than back down and lose it all."

Tumble didn't back up this time, "Yeah? So how are you g-gonna do that?"

"By scouting our territory and keeping them off it," Tugger said, voice dropping.

"And you're fighting 'em with _what_? They want this t-territory too, 'member?"

Tugger just scowled at him. "With whatever we have."

Ricky spoke up, trying to stop what looked like it was going to turn into a fight between Jets, "Hey. On my way back from the station I went through PR territory..."

"What'd you hear?" Tugger asked, turning to the smaller gang member.

"Well...I heard Alonzo, he's in charge over there now, tellin' 'em he's goin' after Cori." He paused, "He's got a gun."

Standing, arms and legs askance, Tugger looked for a long moment like he didn't know which way to go. "He said he didn't want a part of this," he tried to justify for a moment but he felt like Mac's ghost was lurking over his shoulder and glaring. "But we should protect our own, rather than let the PRs in on them. Alright, we find Cori, see about keeping him safe. Alright?" he said, glaring specifically at Tumble.

Tumble was the first to nod in response to that, "W-we always protect our own."

"He came through for..." Tugger paused.

"He avenged Mac," Admetus finished. "He's still one of us."

"Alright, Metus you're at the river. Ricky, get to the back alleys," he continued barking out orders to the other gang members, before turning to Tumble. "You and me, the park."

Tumble hesitated at that, not sure he wanted to be alone with Tugger, before nodding, "The park."

Giving him a long look, the taller nodded and started striding off. Pausing until the others had scattered, Tumble hurried to catch up with the other's long strides.

Tugger slowed his steps once he was sure they were away from the others. "You're not gonna stammer at me again?" he asked, trying to still instill all his words with false bravo.

Tumble's eyes narrowed at that, "You say that l-like I can c-control it."

"Seemed to do a decent job all the time you've been in the gang. What's got it going off like that then?" he asked, though his voice was slipping from jeering into something resembling just curiosity.

The smaller teen stared at him for a long moment, "H-how 'bout seeing t-two guys our age, Mac b-bein' one of 'em, die brutally t-tonight?"

"You hafta say it like that?" Tugger asked, actually looking uncomfortable for the first time.

"An' how am I suppose t-to say it?"

"Hell if I know," Tugger huffed, looking away again.

"W-we lost a friend today, T-tug. A good one. I-I don't know. A-ain't sure I want to see it happen again."

"What's the point of his death if we don't keep fighting for what he believed in though?" Tugger asked, and there was a note of pleading in his voice now.

"But...wasn't the fight tonight supposed t-to end some of this?" Tumble sighed, looking up at the other, "I just...h-he died defending a friend, not a territory."

The taller teen gave him a long look. "Then we'll find the friend, alright?"

That earned a small nod, "How...how are you h-holding up?"

"Holdin' up?" Tugger asked and shook his head. "Don't ask."

"Already did," Tumble said softly.

"Then don't expect an answer," Tugger muttered, looking down and kicking the ground he was walking over.

"Tugger, y-you can talk to me."

"Talk to you?" the taller asked, incredulous, stopping to turn on the other. "About what? About being scared? About seeing the person I damn well looked up to in the world die? About seein' the only home and family I'd ever had start crumbling in front of my eyes cos they're suddenly too scared? That they want to run away and I'm tryin' to hold on and it's not working? Is _that_ what you want to talk about?"

Tumble paused for a long moment at that before reaching out to touch the other's arm briefly, "Tug? There ain't any shame in b-being scared. And j-just cause there's doubts don't mean we're leaving. W-we'll make it through this."

Swallowing, Tugger glanced down at where the hand was on his arm. "I..." he started and shook his head. "I-it doesn't matter. We need to make sure Cor's not dead, and deal with everything else, just, later."

"Course it matters. We'll make sure Cori's breathin' and get him safe an' then we'll deal with everything else." Tumble paused, "And I'm here if y-you need anything."

"Okay," Tugger said, taking a deep breath and pausing a moment to actually embrace Tumble before stepping away, hooking his thumbs in his belt loops. "Cor. Let's go."

The smaller teen blinked at that for a moment, "So, we'll check the park, an' then maybe swing by Doc's see if he's seen him?"

"Yeah," Tugger said, voice rough.

"You gonna m-make it?"

"Course I am," Tugger said, squaring his shoulder. "Jet and all that." He paused, glancing back at Tumble. "Or rather, a part of that family and that I'm not willin' to let go."

"Then we d-don't let the family go."

w.w.w.w

Curled up in Coricopat's embrace, Mistoffelees dozed, contentedly, but not willing to actually go to sleep and lose a second of time. Coricopat absently stroked a hand over Mistoffelees' hair, "I love you."

"I don't wanna let you go, even for a minute," Mistoffelees said, voice drowsy.

"I have to go to Doc's, though. Meet me there?"

"Can't I just come with you?" Mistoffelees murmured, tilting his head back and nearly jumping from the bed when someone started pounding on the door.

Coricopat startled up, reaching for his shirt and murmuring, "I guess that answers that."

Scrambling up and pulling his pants on and looking around quickly for his shirt, Mistoffelees froze entirely when Bomba's voice came from the other side of the door. "Misto? Why is the door locked?"

"I didn't realize it was locked," he called back once he remembered how to breathe.

The taller teen got his pants on and leaned over to kiss Mistoffelees briefly, "I'll meet you at Doc's. Hurry, love."

Ignoring the sound of Bomba knocking again Mistoffelees pulled Coricopat into a kiss with his hands on either side of his face. "Be careful," he whispered, stepping back and getting his undershirt back on. "Coming, Bomba!"

Coricopat hesitated, but nodded and slipped out the window, hurrying down the fire escape and away.

Taking another breath, Mistoffelees finally pulled open the door. "Bomba," he started.

"Has anyone been to see you?" she asked, voice harsh. Apparently they had neither been quick nor quiet enough.

"Pounce stopped by, he told me about..." Mistoffelees started as the taller woman moved past him into the bedroom. "Bomba," he tried, putting a hand on her arm. "You can..." he was going to say talk to him, but trailed off as she swooped down and rose with Coricopat's torn jacket in one hand. Between the jacket and the state the bed was in, he figured he really had no chance of lying and snapped his mouth shut.

"How could you?" Bomba demanded, advancing on him and tossing the jacket angrily back down on the bed. "He's one of them!"

"But," Mistoffelees started and her voice over powered his.

"A boy like that, one of them, who'd kill your brother! Misto, stick to your own kind!"

"He's not," Mistoffelees tried again.

"A boy who kills cannot love, has no heart! And yet the one that killed your own brother is the one that gets your love and your heart? How stupid are you?" Bomba's voice was getting shriller by the second and Mistoffelees winced.

"How can you say that? If a killer cannot love than Munkustrap never loved you because he killed Cori's brother-" he said, clinging to any counter argument he could find.

When Bomba slapped him across the face, he let his head go with the motion, looking the side for a long moment as she continued.

"How dare you?" she hissed. "Your brother-"

"Loved me. And you," Mistoffelees said, quietly. "But you cannot say that Cori could not love."

"So you still think you love him?" she demanded, "Even after he," she stuttered out, unable to quite say that Munkustrap was dead.

"Yes," Mistoffelees said, voice still small.

"He'll murder your love like he murdered mine," she returned, voice flaring hot.

"No, Bomba, no," Mistoffelees shook his head, cheek still smarting. "What you're saying, I think it's smart but in my heart I don't believe a second of it. You should know better. You said you were in love, you should know better!"

"How dare you question," Bomba snarled, but her voice was on the verge of tears.

"I'm not," Mistoffelees said quickly, moving to catch her hands in his. "But how can you say you loved my brother and then not understand this?"

"Because he is different! Because he is dangerous!"

"But I love him!"

"That doesn't solve the world's ills," she said, shaking her head quickly.

"I know," he said, voice faint. "But he's my everything. I can't just let him go because the world itself is against us."

Bomba looked at him a long moment, finally swallowing. "Alonzo has a gun," she said softly, the only allowance she was willing to give Mistoffelees.

"I know," he said softly. "But I swear, if he touches him, I'll-"

"Do what your, what the American, did to Munkus?" Bomba asked, eyes cold.

"I love him," Mistoffelees repeated faintly.

"I know," Bomba said finally, with a long sigh. "I loved your brother." Squeezing both of Bomba's hands, Mistoffelees' head whipped around when there was another sound at the door.

Deuteronomy entered the apartment. Seeing the bedroom door open he moved over and knocked lightly on it, "Sorry to disturb you, I suppose you're disturbed enough."

"Yes," Mistoffelees said, rising. "If you'll excuse me. I must go to my brother." He hesitated, reaching for Coricopat's jacket and realizing it would be far too large on him, going for his own coat instead.

"There are a couplea questions I'd like to ask you," Deuteronomy replied, not moving from the doorway.

"Later, please," he said, shaking his head, Bomba still sitting on the bed and watching the cop with undisguised dislike and distrust.

"It'll only take a minute."

"Couldn't you wait?" Bomba asked, finally coming to Mistoffelees' defense.

"It, it's already been a very long night," Mistoffelees said weakly.

"No. I can't wait. I've got some questions and I'm damn tired of gettin' the run-around from alla you."

Mistoffelees' face paled and he gaped at the other a long moment, nearly choking.. "F-from all of... sir, if you'll excuse me, my brother was just murdered. I'm hardly trying to give you a run around I simply..." he fell silent rather than start crying.

"The answer my questions and you can go claim his body. You were at the dance earlier this week at the gym, right?"

"Yes," Mistoffelees said, voice harsh.

"Your brother got in a pretty heavy argument because you...kissed the wrong boy. Who was that boy?"

"I," Mistoffelees blinked, shaking his head slightly. "An American."

"Name," the cop demanded.

"I don't," Mistoffelees shook his head. "I'd never met him before."

"And you haven't seen him since?"

"At school, around, things like that," Mistoffelees shrugged and glanced at Bomba who was watching him. "Bomba, can you please run to Doc's for me? My head has been getting worse."

"Don't you lot keep aspirin around?" Deuteronomy frowned.

"It's something special," Mistoffelees returned. "Only thing that helps. Can you please run there for me?" he asked, turning to Bomba again who hesitated and nodded.

"Shall I ask them to hold it for you?" she asked, cautious.

"Will this take long?" Mistoffelees glanced at the officer again.

"As long as it takes. Which at this rate could be a while."

"I will get the package myself, if he can hold it for me," Mistoffelees replied, swallowing and wrapping the jacket around himself tighter. Nodding, Bomba touched his arm lightly before slipping from the room.

Mistoffelees moved across the small bedroom, taking a scarf from his closet since it was a cool night. "Now, what else did you have to ask?"

"Can you describe the other boy?"

"The American?" Mistoffelees asked, turning back. "Short. Attractive. I don't know, maybe black hair?"

"You kissed him. You see him at school and you can't tell me more than that?"

"I didn't kiss him, he kissed me," Mistoffelees replied, trying not to look at the bed or think about it at all. "I would recognize him if I saw him, but I'm not good at recalling faces, especially American ones."

"Then if we were to bring you down to identify some possible candidates you'd be willing to identify him?"

"For what purpose?" Mistoffelees asked, frowning.

"Have some rather specific questions to ask him."

"A boy at a dance you can't even identify?" Mistoffelees asked, blinking in confusion and trying not to make it obvious he wanted to be anywhere else.

"A boy who was a cause of a fight your brother had."

"Do you, do you think he had something to do with it?" Mistoffelees asked, widening his eyes.

"With what? Your brother's death? If he's a Jet it's possible."

Swallowing, Mistoffelees dropped his eyes down and away. "Was, was there anything else?"

"No, I think that's it for the time being."

"Then if you'll excuse me?" he asked weakly.

"Of course. You'll be wanting to go to your brother, I'm sure. Shall I walk you?"

"No," Mistoffelees said, shrinking back slightly. "I'm sure you have others you must question. I would, I would prefer to be left in peace."

Deuteronomy nodded once, "I'm sorry for your loss." With that he left.

Once he was gone, Mistoffelees sagged, covering his mouth with one hand and trying to recompose himself long enough to gather the few things he wanted-it barely amounted to a bag that he actually cared about. Wrapping the scarf around his neck, he glanced once more around the apartment he'd shared with his brother before striding across it and closing the door behind him.

w.w.w.w

Ricky pushed the door to Doc's drug store open, looking around at the gang members who were there, "Anyone find Cori?"

Plato was sitting where Mac used to, smoking a cigarette and trying to look calm and composed. Sitting across from him and not looking quite so happy, Admetus nodded. "He's in the basement with Doc."

"You warn him about Alonzo?" Ricky made his way over to the juke box, considering the music choices.

"Doc said he would," Plato replied.

"What's he in the cellar for anyhow?"

"You kiddin'?" Plato huffed and Admetus glared at him. "The PRs are after him, the cops are after him. Surprised he hasn't started runnin' yet."

"Kinda my point," Ricky muttered. "Someone should go stand watch, whistle if'n they see Alonzo or any a the PRs..." he paid the juke box and got some music set.

"You volunteerin'?" Plato sneered as the door suddenly opened and the gang members gathered there froze, staring in shock to see Bombalurina standing in the door.

Ricky scowled at the Puerto Rican, "What do you want?"

"I'd like to see Doc," she said, voice quiet.

"He ain't here," Plato returned.

"Where is he?" she asked, eyes roving over the others.

"He's gone to the bank. An error in his favor," the youngest of the Jets answered, looking at the jukebox again.

"The banks are closed this time of night," she returned, taking half a step back and then a full one forward.

Ricky moved and stepped in her way, "We already said he ain't here. Where you going?"

"Downstairs, to see him," she replied, tilting her chin up in defiance of the Jet.

"Didn't you hear Plato? He ain't here," Ricky said.

"I would like to see for myself," she replied, Plato rising to stand behind Ricky. Her eyes darted between them before settling back on the shorter.

Ricky's lip curled at that, "Ask nicely."

Swallowing, Bomba looked between them again, the other gang members having filed in around them and presenting her with a wall of Jets. "Please,"

"Por favor," the smaller teen mocked.

"Will you let me pass?" she asked, trying to keep a note of desperation from entering her voice.

"I don't know, I think she's too dark to pass," Plato drawled and she couldn't stop the wince.

"Don't," she murmured.

"_Please_ don't," Ricky corrected.

"Look," she said, barely controlling herself. "I have a message for a friend of yours. I've got to tell Cori-"

"He ain't here," Ricky growled.

"I know he is," she replied.

"Who said?" Plato demanded.

"Who's the message from?" Ricky's question came quickly on the heels of Plato's.

"Never mind that," she said, taking a step forward.

"Couldn't be from Alonzo could it?"

"I want to stop him!" she protested. "I want to help!"

"_Munkustrap's_ girl wants to help?"

"Help the guy that killed him. Yeah, you'll excuse our disbelief," Plato laughed.

She scowled at them. "Let me pass!"

"Yeah, like we're really gonna let Munksutrap's tramp through."

Jutting her chin out, she glared at them. "I want to help," she repeated. "I know he's here, I just have a message to send through." Part of her wished that Mistoffelees would arrive, and the other part that still considered the small teen a brother was aghast at the thought of Mistoffelees facing any of this.

"Lying tramp," Ricky snapped, moving past her but catching her skirt and shaking it a bit.

Tearing her skirt away from him, she took a step only to run into Admetus who leered at her. Taking another abrupt step the other way, she tripped over Plato's leg, stumbling.

Ricky pushed her so that her momentum carried her into the hands of a couple of the other Jets present. Shrieking, she struggled against them as the gang members let her fall to the ground, Plato reaching for her skirt.

The door to the cellar banged against the wall, Doc staring at them in horror, "Stop it! What in god's name have you done now?" He moved swiftly over, shoving a couple of the boys out of the way.

There was dead silence from the gang members as the rest of them stepped back. Shakily, Bomba rose to her feet, adjusting her skirt. "Munkustrap was right," she said, voice low. "If one of you was bleeding in the street, I'd walk by and spit on you."

"Don't let her go, she'll tell Alonzo," Ricky yelped, earning him a hard knock from Doc.

"Tell Alonzo?" she repeated, shaking off when Plato went to grab her arm, laughing harshly. "No, I won't tell Alonzo anything. I was here to tell your American friend a message. Tell that murderer that Mistoffelees is never going to meet him. He was found out and shot!" Whirling on her heel she stalked to the door, slamming it in the stunned silence she left behind.

Doc leaned hard against the counter, shaking his head at the teens, "What does it take to get through to you? When do you _stop_? You make this world lousy!"

"That's the way we found it," Admetus replied.

The man looked from one boy to the next, something shifting in his expression, "Get out of here. All of you." Looking at him, they began to slowly file out.

Once the door closed behind the last of the Jets, Doc made his slow way back down into the basement. He paused at the bottom of the stairs when he saw Coricopat, sitting on a crate waiting. He swallowed hard, his hand tightening around the bills in his hand, "Coricopat..."

Cori looked up, "The customer leave already?"

"It..." He sighed, offering the money to the youth.

"Thanks," Coricopat pocketed the bills, hesitating, "Doc, is something wrong? I already told you, this'll be fine. We're getting away and even if we only make it one night to the next, Misto and I will make it. It'll turn out alright in the end."

Doc closed his eyes and looked away, "No, Cori. It won't."

That earned a frown, "What do you mean?"

"That was no customer just now. That was Bombalurina." He paused, steeling himself, "Mistoffelees is dead. He was found out. Shot."

Coricopat backed up a step at that, "No. You've got it wrong, Doc. That can't be true, I just left him!"

"I'm sorry, lad, that's what she said."

"Then she-she's lying." He looked around frantically, "No. He can't be dead. We..." His breathing quickened as he cast about, "I have to know."

"You can't go out there, you'll be killed!"

"Good!" Coricopat backed a step more to avoid the hand Doc extended to him.

"What are you going to do, lad?"

"I'm going to go. Find out if it's true. And if it is I'm going to hunt down the bastard who did it and kill him, and if I die in the process, all the better." Before Doc could stop him, Coricopat took off up the stairs and out the door, his course set for Shark territory.

Coricopat's path didn't take him very far before a figure stepped out of the shadows toward him. "Cori!" Mistoffelees called softly, having missed Bomba on her way out and only just arriving.

Coricopat froze at the voice, turning in that direction, "M-Misto? Oh, God it's you."

Letting out a breath, Mistoffelees could feel a smile spreading across his face as he started toward Coricopat.

The taller teen breathed a soft sigh of relief, moving quickly toward Mistoffelees. They had nearly reached one another when there was a crack of a gunshot and Coricopat stumbled and cried out. His hand instinctively moved to press against the blossoming bloodstain on his stomach.

Mistoffelees went down with him, reaching out quickly to grab him as he fell, too shocked to process anything. "Cori!" he cried out, not even noticing where Alonzo was standing in shock to one side, as if he couldn't actually believe he'd fired.

"Cori," Mistoffelees repeated, bracing the other teen's head in one hand, the other tugging the scarf from around his neck and pressing the fabric against his stomach. "Cori, come on, please don't..."

Coricopat blinked his grey eyes, trying to get them to focus. One of his hands moved to rest against Mistoffleees' cheek as he tried to draw enough of a breath to speak, "M-Misto...I-I'm sorry."

"No no no," he hushed quickly, letting Coricopat's head rest in his lap and using that hand to cup the one against his cheek. "Come on, we're almost there. We'll even be there soon."

The other shook his head, letting out a shaky breath that ended in a faint choking cough, "We can't." His body shuddered, pain rolling through him and he felt numbness following quickly in its wake, "I l-love you, M-Mistoffelees. Forever." His voice grew weaker by the moment, barely audible at the last word.

"Sh, Cori, I know," Mistoffelees soothed. "Love you too always... will," he finished, voice small. Coricopat offered him a crooked smile. Another shudder wracked his body as the last breath left his lungs and he fell still.

For a long moment, Mistoffelees didn't move, leaning over the other boy before he gently rested him on the ground, brushing his still lips with his fingers. Rising, he slowly turned to Alonzo, who hadn't moved.

Behind him, he heard someone running to a stop, glancing back in time to see Tugger and Tumble arrive, some of the other Jets spilling from Doc's shop, having heard the gun shot. But he hardly cared about them at the moment. When Tugger started taking a step forward though, his voice lashed through the air. "Stay back."

Pouncival and a handful of Sharks skidded to a stop opposite the Jets. Pounce's gaze moved from one part of the macabre tableau to the next.

Looking for another long moment at the body in front of him, Mistoffelees turned his gaze back to Alonzo, who'd dropped the gun and moved back. Not sparing much of a glance to anyone else standing there, Mistoffelees stepped forward and scooped the gun up, looking it over.

Pouncival hesitated before taking a half step forward, "Misto?"

"How do you fire this, Pounce?" he asked, not looking up. "Just pull this little trigger? It's such a small thing..."

The other's eyes widened slightly, "Misto...give me the gun?"

"No," he said, raising the gun enough to point it at Alonzo, who took another solid step back. "How many bullets are left? Enough for you? Or you?" he asked, turning fast enough to point it at Tugger. "All of you? Because we all killed him. And my brother, and Mac. I can kill now, because I _hate_ how."

Tumble froze when the gun turned on Tugger, fear flashing in his eyes as he managed to rest his hand on the other's elbow. He momentarily wondered if he'd be able to push Tugger aside if that gun did end up going off.

Pounce drew a breath, "Misto, you don't want to do that."

"I don't?" he asked, finally looking at Pounce. He glanced back toward Alonzo, who looked stricken. "Because, how many can I kill, Lonzo? How many-and still have one bullet left for me?" Even as he said it though, something in him broke.

Dropping the gun he sank down to the ground, bending over Coricopat's body and breaking finally into wracking sobs.

Pouncival and Tumblebrutus both moved at the same time, Pounce stopped though, watching the American warily. Tumble hesitated only briefly before moving over and kneeling beside Mistoffelees, placing a hand on his shoulder. Nodding once, Pouncival moved to take his place Mistoffelees' other side.

Instinctively, Mistoffelees jerked backwards from both of their touch before stopping and turning wide eyes on Pounce. "What am I supposed to do?" he managed, still crying.

Eying the Sharks warily, Tugger stepped forward as well, stopping next to Tumble.

Pounce hesitated, "You take it a day at a time, try to live your life. Let people be the shoulders to support you." Tumble nodded his agreement as he leaned past Msito slightly to close Coricopat's eyes.

"That wasn't what I meant," Mistoffelees managed, staring at the other in shocked numbness as several Sharks finally gathered the courage to step across from Tugger. Bending down, they carefully lifted Coricopat together.

"Wh-what did you mean?" Tumble murmured, shifting back slightly so that the blended gangs wouldn't have to step around him.

"I meant right now," he said, glancing at where he dropped the gun again, before rising slowly to follow the funeral procession.

* * *

><p>Also known as the scene in which Plato shows up for the sake of plot. It's interesting in this story because as some of our readers might be aware, we often times ship Tugger and Tumble and they didn't quite show up like that in this story. The potential is very much there but it's not explicit. They show up sort of as a Mac and Cor, the second generation deal in this one. Tumble is very much in the same position Cori was and hopefully he'll be able to drag Tugger out before he or they both end up dead.<p>

That being said, thank you everyone who's read the story! It means a lot to us, if you could please leave a review. The button down there is lonely and it would mean so much to us. Also, if you check out the livejournal community (magical-notes livejournal com) we have commentary on the different chapters up, if you want any more insight to the way we structured the story or certain characters. Thank you again for your time!


	9. Epilogue: Disturbing the Ghosts

Sitting at the morgue, his head down, Mistoffelees glanced up when he heard footsteps approaching. He felt his spine tense when he found Tugger looking down at him. Silence stretched between the two teens for a long moment, and Tugger finally held something out to him. "Here," he said, a wad of money in his hand. "Cor, he had this when he died. I asked Doc, said they were his wages. He was goin' to take you away with them. I thought, well, that you might have them."

Mistoffelees blinked at him a long moment, before accepting the offering.

"Thought you might use it," Tugger continued. "Considerin'."

Swallowing, the smaller teen nodded. "Thank you, I think."

Tugger offered him a strained smile. "It ain't much."

"I," Mistoffelees finally forced himself to look back up at the other. "I'm sorry, for your loss too," he said, voice awkward and stumbling over the words. "For, for Mac. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well," Tugger said, looking back over at where some of the other Jets were waiting for him, Tumble still there. "I didn't lose everything."

Mistoffelees couldn't even deny that he had. The moment stretched between them and with another nod, Tugger turned and rejoined the Jets, leaving the smaller teen with his grief.

Mistoffelees met Coricopat's parents, going to their house the day after the funeral. They were aware enough of changes in their son right before his death to accept that Mistoffelees had wrought them. His mother offered Mistoffelees a box of Coricopat's belongings. It was too painful on both sides to keep in constant contact, but they continued to check in from time to time, reassured by the existence of the other side, reassured that someone else had loved Coricopat.

For a while the gangs stopped fighting, especially each other. But soon enough, other gangs started to appear, and both Jets and Sharks were fighting in other battles even as an uneasy truce remained between the two territories, long after the original members had passed through or along. But even if there was peace between them, there were always new enemies to fight.

It took several years, but Tumblebrutus was able to eventually talk Tugger out of the gang life, giving him a new crusade to fight for after street battles were no longer enough. Ricky joined up with the army fresh out of high school and was shipped overseas when the country entered Vietnam. He never made it home, dying on foreign soil three weeks before he was due to return home. Griddlebone made her way through life via a string of loveless marriages, culminating in one with no love, but much wealth. She never had the children she had hoped for.

Moving away from the neighborhood, and having never slept in that apartment again, Mistoffelees worked his way through college. Pounce followed him, and they split the rent of an apartment halfway between the school and Pounce's workplace. The Puerto Rican student achieved good grades, forcing himself past any dislike of English. Which was not to say it was easy, with being shoved in the hallways and being mocked by his very teachers but it hardly seemed the hardest trial of his life.

One day in the winter, Pounce held out a scarf to Mistoffelees as the smaller student was rushing for the door, trying to cram toast into his mouth while pulling his shoes on. Mistoffelees gave him a long, panicked look before shaking his head and slamming the door on the way out, leaving Pounce muttering something about disturbing the ghosts again.

But it was still years later when one day Mistoffelees looked up at Pounce one day, and said simply, as if it surprised him as much as anything, "I'm in love with you."

Pouncival looked up from the book he was reading and offered the other a bit of a smile, "I think I hoped that, but I'm glad to hear it."

"Oh," Mistoffelees blinked, offering the other a shaky smile.

"I've loved you for a while. As a friend, as a brother, as a love." He paused for a long moment, "Are you alright with this? With loving me I mean."

Mistoffelees considered him a moment with a small frown before stepping forward knocking the book away, and cupping Pounce's face he leaned down to kiss him. Pounce blinked rapidly at that before leaning up into the kiss, almost hesitant as his hand moved to rest on Mistoffelees' shoulder.

After another moment, Mistoffelees drew back. "I can't mourn forever," he said softly.

The other nodded very slightly, "I just don't want to be competing with ghosts forever."

Mistoffelees nodded. "Okay." He paused, biting his lip. "It's different," he said. "Which might make it better. A different sort of love, a different sort of person. It's hard to compare the two." Perhaps it was what Bomba had always implied was better: the non passionate love that didn't make you hurt so much. Not that he had actually spoken to Bombalurina in years-they had never been close again after his brother died.

Pounce paused for a long moment, "Alright. I just don't want to feel like I'm overshadowed by a ghost."

The smaller man nodded slightly. "We'll work on that then. I just, I can't live my entire life in the past either. It's never going away," Mistoffelees murmured, still resting their foreheads together. "But it doesn't have to be the only place I live."

"Thank you," Pounce murmured, "for letting me be part of the move forward."

Mistoffelees offered him a faint smile, stroking his cheekbones. "I'm sorry it took so long," he said faintly. "I feel like you've been waiting for me since I was sixteen."

Pouncival kissed the other very lightly and briefly, "I sort of have."

"I'm here now," Mistoffelees said, voice soft.

"I'm glad," he reached up to brush some of Mistoffelees' hair back a bit.

Ducking his head down, Mistoffelees didn't reply, only leaning down to kiss Pounce lightly again. Pounce leaned up, gently deepening the kiss, one hand combing through Mistoffelees hair while the other rested on Misto's shoulder. Swallowing, the smaller man started to return the kiss with more force, allowing himself to melt inch by inch into it.

The next day found Mistoffelees visiting the graveyard. He'd kept up three graves for the past several years, even though it meant walking from one side of the graveyard to the other. Occasionally he would run into Griddlebone at Macavity's grave, and any time he saw any former Sharks or Jets it felt more like a veteran's reunion than high school mates seeing each other again would.

Leaving the usual orange tiger lilies at Mac's grave, and purple tulips at Munkustrap's, Mistoffelees approached Coricopat's grave with a bundle of white roses, gently setting them at the base of the tombstone. He didn't make a habit of talking to gravestones, but this time he let his fingers trace over the name etched into the stone, before trailing along the top. "I love you," he said softly, the air cool and clear around him, and he shivered. He'd never been able to put on a scarf again, even though various people had tried handing one to him on cold days. "Forever."

Letting his fingers trail along the tombstone again, he adjusted the roses once again and turned away.

* * *

><p>So we come to the end of this story. This epilogue was probably the hardest part of the story to actually write and edit. We shall have the last few commentary up soon if you have any interest in our methods or meltdowns and why.<p>

Thank you all very much for reading this story, and we would love to hear what you thought.


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